


First Steps

by A_Spark_Of_Hope, beskar_kyber15



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Master and Apprentice - Claudia Gray
Genre: Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, POV Alternating, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, POV Qui-Gon Jinn, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Tired Dad Qui-Gon Jinn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Spark_Of_Hope/pseuds/A_Spark_Of_Hope, https://archiveofourown.org/users/beskar_kyber15/pseuds/beskar_kyber15
Summary: We get to see how Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi's relationship ended, but how did it begin?
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What started out as a fun conversation with a friend that evolved into a full-on story to help us deal with all our feelings on these two. Chapters will alternate between character POV

Qui-Gon Jinn was a student of the living Force. He understood its ebbs and flows better than any Jedi of the current age, although he would be the first to tell you that there was still so much more he wished to learn. It flowed through him, guided his decisions in all things great and small, which is why Qui-Gon desperately hoped the cosmic Force was playing a joke on him as he stood in front of the Jedi Council. Him, take on a Padawan learner? Surely not...the Maker must be playing a trick on him he knew it...at any moment Yoda and the other masters would see through the deception and agree it was an egregious mistake to acquiesce to his request to take on a learner.

Qui-Gon knew he was a late bloomer as far as taking on Padawans went. Unlike Rael Aveross, he hadn't spent his formative Knighthood in swagger and squander, but rather in deep contemplation (and some would argue, obsession) with the Force itself and its prophecies of old. This left little room for the newly-minted Master to take on a Padawan, but Qui-Gon realized that he wasn't getting any younger...it was part of his duty not only to the Order, but to himself, to pass on what he had learned.

He only hoped to the Force he was more than up for the task.

Qui-Gon buried his hands in the folds of his robes as he took in the Jedi Council, the ones responsible for deciding what young life he would be responsible for the foreseeable future. The human Masters were easiest to read: Depa Bilaba had an air of excitement surrounding her usually serene features, Adi Galla was her usual bright spot in the Force, and Master Windu was as unreadable as ever, although Qui-Gon thought he detected a hint of wry amusement in the corners of his eyes.

Master Yoda however, had no such qualms. Tapping his grimer stick on the small round chair he called his own, he spoke.  
“Master Jinn, sure of this are you?”

“I am my masters...taking on a Padawan is no small endeavor, but the timing is right for me to do what is the most sacred of Jedi duties: passing on what I have learned.”

“And what have you learned?”

Qui-Gon paused. He knew that the Council had already chosen him a Padawan, he had passed their Trials required for building the master and apprentice relationship that was the cornerstone of the Jedi, so why were they asking him all this again?

“Do you doubt my commitment masters?”

“No. Doubt you we do not, only wish to ensure that no doubt is in you.”

Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon replied. “I have learned that the Force is much more than we could ever understand...it is not bound to a certain set of rules or sects, but belongs to all living things and as Jedi, our duty is to connect those we come into contact with ever more closely to the living Force. Taking on a Padawan learner is a microcosmic action in that never-ending circle, but one that is vital to not only understanding the Force, but ourselves as well.”

Yoda said nothing but tapped his stick onto the chair once more. As if waking from a deep sleep, the Council stirred from their positions and all smiled at the Jedi Master that he felt as much as saw; they were proud and...amused, but for what purpose and why he could not discern.

“To the creche, you must go Master Jinn...there your Padawan awaits.”

***

The youngling’s creche was located on the lower levels of the Temple and though it had been many, many years since Qui-Gon had traversed the hallways, buried muscle memory guided him back to the place where his own journey had begun. He remembered the feeling of overwhelming peace and safety that had surrounded him from the cradle, turning into the rambunctious energy of youth, and then to seriousness as he became Master Dooku’s apprentice. It seemed a lifetime ago, the memories of a much younger and different man, but Qui-Gon allowed himself a smile of reminiscence as he came to the youngling's quarters.

The Ithorian Jedi Master Vonnuvi stepped forward and bowed toward her much taller counterpart.

“Master Jinn, the Council told me you were coming to meet your new Padawan.” Gesturing with her long four fingers, she said, “He’s waiting for you in the sleeping quarters.”

Qui-Gon bowed to the Master and strode through the door in question, stooping as he did so as the doorways were meant for younglings of every size and species, not a full-grown man such as Qui-Gon.

The creche rooms were curved in nature, gentle bends making up the walls and meeting at the top to create a dome. The architecture was meant to convey peace and serenity, but Qui-Gon remembered how soft the walls were and drew pictures instead of sleeping as he should have been. The four bunks that made up the space were empty, beds neatly made and tucked in, save for one.

A human boy sat on the edge of the mattress. He couldn’t have been much older than five, his small body a perfect fit in the bottom bunk he was currently swinging his legs on. His auburn hair was already shorn into the traditional Padawan cut: close cropped with a small pigtail braid running down the right side of the shoulder. The boy was tugging on it nervously, an old habit of Qui-Gon’s he himself had to break when he was younger, but looked up as the tall Jedi Master entered the room.

Qui-Gon sensed the boy’s surprise, fear (quickly tamped down), then _excitement_. The boy radiated nervous energy and Qui-Gon couldn’t help but smile at him. It seemed to help, the boy’s shoulders immediately relaxing and a childish grin breaking across his features. Standing suddenly, the boy bowed and said, “Master Jedi.” He spoke with a small lisp and Qui-Gon saw two missing teeth from the boy’s mouth that was the cause. Standing, the boy barely came to Qui-Gon’s knee, so he crouched to eye-level with the youngling, internally cursing the crack he felt in his joints as he did so.

“Hello young one. It seems you are to be my apprentice....my name is Qui-Gon Jinn.”

Straightening as much as his little body could, the boy said back solemnly, “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Well, Obi-Wan Kenobi, it won’t do you much good to stay here while you train...would you like to see your new quarters and the rest of the Temple?”

Qui-Gon watched as the boy’s blue eyes lit up and, snatching a small satchel from the bunk, threw it over his shoulder and marched determinedly toward the door, forgetting that he didn’t know the way out.

Chuckling, Qui-Gon Jinn followed Obi-Wan Kenobi out of the creche and into the Temple.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan discovers how big the Jedi Temple really is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tagging in Obi-Wan now :D

Obi-Wan had been awake since the crack of dawn, too excited to sleep. He knew mastery of his emotions was something he would have to learn. But that was someday. Today was special.

He knew what old Vonnuvi would say if she knew he lay awake. 

“A Jedi knows to use every tool at their disposal. Their body is one such tool and a body needs  _ rest _ , young Kenobi.”

It was the same thing she said to him when she tried - with occasional success - to get him to take a nap with the other younglings.

But naps were for babies. Just like the creche was for babies. And Obi-Wan was a baby no longer. As of today, he was a  _ Padawan _ . 

Yesterday, his hair had been cut in the traditional Padawan style, with a small ceremony. The kitchens had even made his favourite sticky spice rolls for the occasion. He’d eaten so many, he thought he might burst. But that didn’t stop him from ferreting one away in a napkin for later. 

His new master would come pick him up sometime today, and as Obi-Wan lay awake, he couldn’t help but wonder what they would be like. Strict and grumpy like Vonnuvi, or more understanding like Master Yoda was? Would his new master like sticky spice rolls? He hadn’t eaten his pilfered one yet, perhaps they could share?

Before he knew it, the gentle chimes meant to rouse the younglings rang out through the creche. He shot to his feet and quickly made his bed. By the time Vonnuvi came to fetch them, he was waiting at the foot of his bed.

“Eager to begin the day, I see,” she observed, casting a wry glance at the three others who shared the room with Obi-Wan. They dressed sleepily, stumbling around looking for misplaced tabards and stray socks.

Obi-Wan knew they wouldn’t leave the room until all were prepared, so he used the extra time to centre himself as he’d been taught. He closed his eyes and focused on the ebb and flow of the Force around him, the energy that filled the space around him and every being within it. It coursed like a wave and he allowed himself to be carried along with it.

By the time he opened his eyes, he was feeling far calmer about the day ahead. He would not greet his new master like an overeager child not yet ready to leave the creche. It was as though his newfound calm had settled over the whole space. The other three younglings were now dressed and ready, and all stood awaiting Vonnuri’s directions. 

“Very well, you may all go to your lessons,” she nodded. Obi-Wan went to follow, but the Ithorian held out a hand to stop him.

“Not you, young Kenobi. Gather your belongings, your master is on his way.”

***

Obi-Wan could sense him the moment he walked into the common area. He brought with him a different energy. It was chaos cloaked in calm, the two existing in almost perfect harmony. Obi-Wan had never encountered anything like it before in the Force. He found it equal parts fascinating and intimidating.

His master was here. 

He heard voices outside, as he sat waiting on his bed. There was Vonnuvi’s, of course, and then one Obi-Wan had never heard before. The male voice spoke with a soft rumble, deep, but not harsh or scary the way some older Jedi masters were. Obi-Wan did his best to school his anticipation, but doubted that he was succeeding. He could see Vonnuvi outside the door, gesturing for the Jedi to enter. 

A man ducked through the door to the creche. He was very tall, too tall for this little room. His head nearly brushed the ceiling, and Obi-Wan fought the urge to laugh. He maintained what he hoped was a serious expression. 

The closer the man got, the more Obi-Wan felt his emotions beginning to spiral out of control. He looked up at him, waiting to be chastised for his lack of control, or told that he wasn’t ready to be a padawan yet.

Instead the man knelt in front of him - probably to protect the ceiling from his head - and introduced himself as Qui-Gon Jinn. Aware that Vonnuvi was listening, Obi-Wan introduced himself politely, in what he hoped was a grown-up, Padawan kind of way. 

He followed as his new master led the way through the lower levels of the temple, past other youngling dormitories, and their respective training rooms. He jogged to keep up with Master Qui-Gon. By the time Qui-Gon reached the end of the first corridor, Obi-Wan was far behind him and short of breath. 

“Master Jinn! Wait, please!”

Qui-Gon stopped and turned back, watching him run to catch up. By the time he was level with his master, the man had dropped into a squat again.

“Forgive me, Obi-Wan. I forget that not everyone’s stride is as long as mine. Though I wager it won’t be long before you catch up with me.”

When they continued on their way, Qui-Gon had slowed down considerably, and walked alongside Obi-Wan instead. 

“Tell me, Obi-Wan, which of your lessons has been your favourite?”

“I like meditation,” he said, without hesitation. Qui-Gon looked surprised.

“Not saber practice?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Saber practice is fine, it’s…”

He wrinkled his nose, trying to think. He liked practicing on his own just fine. It was sparring he didn’t like. The others were so keen to burn their energy, they became wild and unpredictable. Not a single one of them bothered sticking to the patterns that Master Yoda taught them. He said as much to Qui-Gon. 

The older Jedi laughed. Obi-Wan didn’t see what was so funny. 

They had reached the upper levels of the temple by this point. Obi-Wan froze, his jaw hanging open in awe. He left the lower levels only rarely, and Obi-Wan couldn’t believe how  _ big _ everything was up here. The hallways were wider, the doorways could accommodate his entire creche and then some, and the columns seemed to reach all the way to the sky. Everything was so beautiful, the colours were sedate and soothing, but still looked far nicer than anything downstairs. And it was so  _ busy _ . No wonder they never let him come up here, he would get lost in seconds. 

He then realized he’d completely lost sight of Master Qui-Gon.

“ Come along, Obi-Wan!” his master called. He sprinted forward, weaving through the crowd, until he saw the tall Jedi again.

“It’s so…wow.” Obi-Wan said, still scanning the hallway around him. 

Qui-Gon laughed again. 

A small group of Jedi headed right towards them, heads down as they analyzed a holocron from the Temple archives. Obi-Wan recognized it as one of the many cubes he’s had to dust for Madame Jocasta as punishment for sneaking down to the kitchens after hours for sweets with some friends. 

The Jedi were so wrapped up in their task, they walked straight between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon separating them again. Obi-Wan got turned around in the crowd, lost in a sea of long legs and swirling cloaks.

“Master Jinn?” he called out.

A hand shot through the crowd and grabbed onto his, pulling him forward.

“Perhaps I’d better hang onto you until we get to our quarters. It’s usually a bad sign if a Master loses their Padawan on the first day.”

Usually?

“Has that happened before, Master?”

“Uh, no, Obi-Wan. I was joking.”

_ Still _ , Obi-Wan thought, holding on to Qui-Gon’s hand tightly, _ better safe than sorry _ . 

The two of them continued on their way. With Qui-Gon now holding onto him and leading the way, Obi-Wan was free to study his new Master.

There was something familiar about him. Something about the quiet power of his voice and laugh, his well-trimmed beard, his height and colouring. 

Then it hit Obi-Wan. Master Qui-Gon reminded him of his papa.

He knew Jedi were supposed to “forego attachment”, and while he wasn’t very sure what that meant just yet, he knew dedicating himself to his temple family was part of that. His parents were a part of his old life, the one he was meant to put aside. 

He had put them aside, mostly, though he still dreamed about them sometimes. Small memories, like his mama singing him to sleep, or his papa carrying him around on his shoulders as he went about his business in town. He knew even these memories would fade eventually. They were fading already. 

There were times in the creche, when he’d been scared or sad or frustrated, where all he wanted was to give up on everything and run to the arms of his parents. What would it mean, then, when he couldn’t remember their faces anymore? Would he be completely alone in the galaxy?

But as he looked at the kind face of his new Master, he realized he might not be as alone in all this as he thought.

Qui-Gon stopped in front of a set of doors.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, welcome home.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mornings are for coffee and meditation

Obi-Wan Kenobi was eager, Qui-Gon had to give him that.

A Jedi was meant to be adaptable, to utilize the living Force as well as themselves to overcome any obstacle, but Qui-Gon wasn't sure if the Jedi of old had factored Padawan’s standing at the edge of their Master’s beds at the crack of dawn. Whether it was because of his many years alone or his age, but when he woke from a deep slumber the day after taking on Obi-Wan and saw the Padawan in question standing at the foot of his bed, he nearly let loose a string of curses that would have made Rael Aveross cringe.

"Master Jinn?"

The boy looked nervous, hand tugging on the braid absentmindedly as he stared wide-eyed at the half-asleep man in front of him.

Taking a calming breath and allowing the Force to push away all thoughts of getting any more rest for the foreseeable future, Qui-Gon sat up and rumbled, "Yes, Obi-Wan?"

The boy took a few shuffling steps from the foot of the bed to the side. The hand not occupied with worrying his braid into submission was tucked behind his back and, as he reached Qui-Gon's side, Obi-Wan extended a crumpled, greasy cloth out to the older man.

"I know it's early and my training isn't supposed to start for another few hours, but I couldn't sleep and wondered if you could meditate with me...the other Masters said you're one of the best...I brought you a sticky spice roll from the kitchen to help you focus...they're my favorites and…"

The boy's nervous rambling trailed off as Qui-Gon gently took the cloth-covered sweet. It was minuscule in his large hands that could have easily fit a small platter, but Qui-Gon felt his face break into a smile as he unwrapped the unexpected gift…

Only to find a handful of stale crumbs. 

Obi-Wan caught his breath and Qui-Gon felt more than saw the boy reeling back his wave of emotion and embarrassment at the stack of crumbs. 

"Well Obi-Wan...it seems there is only one thing to do."

The boy's cerulean gaze met his master's and Qui-Gon saw the absolute, abject terror in them. What was he so afraid of? Did Obi-Wan truly not understand that Qui-Gon wouldn't so easily cast aside his padawan over a stale baked good? Qui-Gon knew the boy had been older when he'd been discovered and brought to the Temple, but wondered if it had to do with the fact that he had overheard many a Master whispering about the "wild" and "reckless" youngling that many were reluctant to train, let alone take on as a Padawan learner. That type of rejection could wound deeper than any lightsaber cut and Qui-Gon found himself reaching out to place a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"It seems,” he rumbled, “We shall have to go to the kitchens and request a plateful, seeing as the ones we have here are barely fit for the birds in the Temple aviary...let alone a growing Padawan."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise and Qui-Gon thought he detected a hint of a smile as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. Drawing himself up to his full height, Qui-Gon intoned solemnly, "And a Jedi Master also needs his kaf before lessons begin for the day."

***

 _The boy must be part droid and hiding the food in a secret compartment_ , Qui-Gon thought, watching as Obi-Wan polished off his sixth? seventh? sticky roll. 

The duo had made their way down to the kitchens, the Temple halls empty as the world held itself in the quiet moment between night and dawn. Qui-Gon rather liked the stillness; the Force seemed to be more tangible, the limbo between light and dark not merely a metaphor, but a plane of existence one could walk...

If one only had an eager young Padawan to wake them at the crack of dawn for breakfast. 

Obi-Wan had greeted the cooks by name and they returned the enthusiasm with a familiarity that bespoke many previous visits (whether solicited or not) and immediately propped the boy on a stool and began regaling him with songs and stories from their respective cultures. Qui-Gon had gone largely unnoticed (no mean feat) until Obi-Wan had pointed him out, proudly pointing and saying, “This is Master Jinn and I’m his new Padawan.” The chefs immediately bowed, murmuring ‘Master Jedi’ and Qui-Gon had gently waved them off, although the dimples creasing the boy’s face made for a contagious atmosphere.

Cupping the now-empty ceramic in his hands, Qui-Gon looked at the shiny, sticky face of his new Padawan and the boy met him with a gap-toothed smile, blue eyes alive with a combination of sugar and excitement from the day prior. 

_So this is what it means to have another’s life in your hands...fully and completely_. The Sith utilized their master and apprentice relationships to assert dominance and control over the subordinate, to twist and corrupt the life they held into their own image. The Jedi viewed their teaching relationships as one with the symbiotic Force: one feeding into the other and back, giving and taking in equal measure. Qui-Gon had seen many masters enter into this relationship and come out on the other side completely different...but always for the better. He wondered what he would be like at the end of his and Obi-Wan’s partnership and what Obi-Wan’s own apprentice would learn because of the knowledge Qui-Gon would begin to share starting today.

“Padawan.”

Obi-Wan straightened immediately, his face taking on a seriousness that made him look older than his years. His body was still, but Qui-Gon could feel the tremor of excitement rippling through the boy; it turned his aura almost like a mirage, the lines blurred but the silhouette clear. Right now, Obi-Wan Kenobi was ready to listen.

Standing from the table, Qui-Gon bowed in thanks to the chefs and strode silently out of the room, the patter of boots behind him the only indication that Obi-Wan was following. Qui-Gon made an effort to slow and shorten his strides to better accommodate his young pupil, the hide-and-seek of yesterday not easily forgotten. The Temple was beginning to wake, nocturnal species beginning to move back into their quarters for the day, while other early members wandered blearily through the hallways in search of meditation or chemical substances like kaf to rouse them from their half-dreams.

Qui-Gon had contemplated all through breakfast where to begin Obi-Wan’s first true meditation session. There were always the circular towers at the top of the Temple, glass encasing one on every side to feel as if one was floating above the city, the solar panels of the city-planet’s “sun” warming and relaxing the body. Or there were the underwater meditation chambers for those that preferred the cool and dark weightlessness surrounding them. Qui-Gon usually found himself in one of two places: the Temple gardens of the comfort of his own quarters and it was the latter he strode toward today. The gardens were a good place to wander aimlessly and feel the Force in its most pure flowing around life forms that had no worries other than sun, water, and growth. Qui-Gon had lost many hours there, just wandering and brushing his hands over the delicate leaves, stems, bark, and petals of what seemed to be every variation of plant life in the galaxy, but it could also prove distracting for a mind as young as Obi-Wan’s and he wanted his Padawan to be comfortable and not feel as if he was being evaluated by the entire Temple in such an open and public space.

Waving the door open, Qui-Gon walked into the living quarters and sat at one end of the circular pattern that made up the floor. Obi-Wan hovered in the doorway, his round face one of intent seriousness, but the worrying of his hands betraying his nerves and Qui-Gon smiled softly at the boy and waved him forward, gesturing to the spot a few feet across from him. Obi-Wan practically lept forward and matched Qui-Gon: knees on the ground, hands cupped on the lap, palms facing upward. 

Once the boy had finished situating himself, Qui-Gon said, “What do you know of meditation, Obi-Wan?”

“It is a means to focus a Jedi’s mind for many purposes: battle, relaxation, and reaching out with the Force to both connect with others and potentially see into the future.”

The boy was right but spoke with a robotic flatness that indicated he was merely reciting what he had been taught, not what he had experienced, and Qui-Gon nodded slowly.

“Yes...and no. A Jedi may use meditation in those ways but ultimately, the purpose is to connect to the Force in the best way you know how. For some, it is in the heat of battle, others in the stillness and vastness of space, while for some it could be as simple as holding a warm mug of tea in hand and allowing oneself to settle and breathe. Most people see meditation as a way to let the mind wander, but in reality it is a way to focus and connect with the Force. You become everything and nothing; letting go of fears, hopes, dreams, and just _become_.”

Obi-Wan nodded, brow furrowing in concentration. “I think I understand Master...but I’m also still confused.”

Qui-Gon chuckled quietly. “I was the same way when my master told me this as well. With time and training, you will understand. Now, close your eyes and reach out toward me...try to match my breathing as best you can.”

Silence filled the space. Qui-Gon’s breathing became even and steady, the familiar pattern relaxing and allowing his mind to expand and reach out toward everything and everyone: the younglings being taught by Yoda downstairs, the stillness of the Archives, even the bustle and noise of the city. Qui-Gon had always thought it strange that the Jedi home was set on a world so full of life, yet so devoid of peace...but maybe it hadn’t always been that way. Maybe it didn’t always need to be this way.

Focusing on the boy in front of him, Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan attempting to relax and match his master. A fidget there, an eyebrow scratch there...Obi-Wan still held the rambunctious energy of youth and the sugar-filled sticky buns he had eaten prior probably weren’t helping, Qui-Gon thought wryly. He cautioned himself patience and continued on, reaching out only occasionally to ensure that Obi-Wan was doing okay. Qui-Gon had never been a hoverer by nature; he preferred to allow individuals to find their own way and path to the solution...imposing his will on another to achieve what his version of success looked like would be akin to forcing an amphibious Gungan to become a desert Tusken or a Gundark to suddenly sprout wings and fly like a Keeradak. 

How long they sat there, Qui-Gon didn’t know, so lost in the ebb and flow of the Force. It was only when a small gurgle broke the silence that he opened his eyes to see an abashed Obi-Wan looking down at his stomach, as if aghast his own body could betray him in this way. Unfolding himself from his kneeling position, Qui-Gon stood and walked over in silence to the small table and two chairs he kept in the quarters for guests. Waving toward the empty one, Obi-Wan scrambled up from the floor and sat down as Qui-Gon poured tea he always had on hand. The boy took the cup solemnly, with a quiet “thank you” and sipped. His gaze kept flickering toward the older man and Qui-Gon knew he was waiting for some response to the lesson’s interruption. 

Never saying a word, Qui-Gon reached into the fold of his robes and placed not one, but two sticky spice buns on the plates in front of them.

After all, there was more than one way to connect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sugar and meditation? Oh Qui-Gon...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, Obi-Wan has anxiety

One thing Obi-Wan hadn’t expected once he’d been chosen as Padawan to a Jedi Master was that he would still have to attend classes with others his age. 

These lacked the formality of the lessons he had with the other younglings. The groups were smaller, their numbers often changing depending on whose Master was currently at the temple. The lessons were also cooperative in nature, not the sort of thing a Master was expected to teach their Padawan. After all, skills such as teamwork required a team environment.

Obi-Wan had been hesitant at the concept, when he asked Master Qui-Gon the types of things Padawans learned at such lessons.

“Depending on which Master is available, it might be advanced saber technique, or perhaps navigation techniques, negotiation techniques…”

He trailed off, lost in thought. Obi-Wan brightened at once. Negotiation? He was already good at that, if the sweets he managed to bargain from the chefs were any indication. Advanced saber technique might be hard at first, but he bet they always stuck to their patterns in the  _ advanced _ classes. And navigation, well, that was new but he could learn that, and-

“Of course,” Qui-Gon continued, bringing an end to Obi-Wan’s musings, “at your age it will probably be sparring practice.”

Obi-Wan groaned.

Sure enough, when Qui-Gon led him to one of the smaller practice courts reserved for Padawans, Obi-Wan could see the Jedi Master, a Twi’lek male, handing out practice sabers to the others already assembled. Qui-Gon pushed him forward gently, and Obi-Wan grudgingly dragged his feet into the room, and accepted the heavy wooden stick with a small bow of respect.

They fell into something of a routine over the next few weeks. After breakfast - always something nutritious, the sticky rolls now a distant memory - came the private lessons. Sometimes physical, sometimes more spiritual. After lunch, Qui-Gon would walk Obi-Wan down to his classroom for his afternoon lessons, then pick him up again.

Though he was grateful for the accompaniment the first few times, after a while Obi-Wan began to wonder if his Master simply didn’t realize he didn’t need help finding the classroom. 

“Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan said one day as Qui-Gon prepared to accompany him out of their quarters. “You don’t have to come with me, I know the way.”

For some reason, Qui-Gon did not look relieved at Obi-Wan’s offer. Rather, he looked almost sad.

“I see. Very well, Obi-Wan. Off with you. Straight back here when you’re done.”

He dismissed him with a good-natured wave of his hand, and a smile that didn’t look quite like his usual one. Obi-Wan hesitated, then did as he was bid. A couple of times, he turned back to peek at the door, and saw Qui-Gon standing where he’d left him, watching him walk away into the bustle of the corridor.

All throughout lessons that day - sparring, of course - Obi-Wan had an uneasy feeling in his chest. He felt as though he might cry, but couldn’t figure out  _ why _ . All he knew was that he mustn’t do so, under any circumstances. He wasn’t a baby, after all. Still, he lacked his usual focus. He received far more smacks with the practice sabers than he usually did. On a couple of occasions, his classmates had even managed to land him flat on his back. 

After a couple of hours that felt like an eternity, sore and bruised, Obi-Wan trudged back to the living quarters he shared with Qui-Gon. The closer he got, the more his uneasiness grew, and still he had no clarity on the source of it. 

Qui-Gon was seated on a small cushion meant for meditation, reading off of a datapad. A cup of steaming tea sat on the floor beside him. He looked up as soon as Obi-Wan entered, and smiled at him. His old smile, not the strange one from earlier. He gestured at the empty cushion in front of him, bidding Obi-Wan to join him. 

“What’s troubling you, Padawan?” he asked once Obi-Wan was seated.

An excellent question. Unfortunately, it was one Obi-Wan couldn’t answer.

“I don’t know, Master Jinn,” he admitted, looking down at the floor. 

“Is this about earlier? Your request to walk to class alone?”

Obi-Wan looked up in shock. How had Qui-Gon figured it out so quickly when he himself struggled with it.

“I’m...afraid-” he stopped himself. A Jedi wasn’t  _ afraid _ . “Concerned that is, that I might have hurt your feelings.”

The corners of Qui-Gon’s eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Of course you didn’t, Obi-Wan. I simply enjoyed spending the extra time with you, but of course you want to exert a bit of independence. I know I did, at your age.”

Qui-Gon stood, motioning for Obi-Wan to stay seated, then returned shortly with a second cup of tea. Obi-Wan took it carefully and blew on it before sipping.

“You’re not angry with me?”

“No. I am not angry with you.”

Obi-Wan relaxed at once, and the mood in the whole room seemed to lighten. 

“However, I’m afraid I’m going to have to walk you down tomorrow,” Qui-Gon said, smiling again. “I’ll be conducting the lesson.”

Obi-Wan choked on his tea.

***

The whole walk down to the classroom the next day, Obi-Wan was a barely-restrained bundle of nerves. What would it be like,to share his Master’s lessons with others. Some of his classmates had had their Masters come in to teach already. Those experiences had been mixed. Sometimes, it was as uneventful as when any Master came to class. But sometimes, the Padawan of the instructor was singled out, as though they were expected to have additional knowledge of the lesson. Obi-Wan was reasonably confident Master Qui-Gon wouldn’t do this, but he couldn’t be sure.

He waited in the classroom with the others for Qui-Gon to arrive. He had spotted a Jedi knight that he needed to speak to by the door and sent Obi-Wan in without him. Naturally, the rest of the class took advantage of the temporary power vacuum and swarmed Obi-Wan, demanding to know what his Master was like. 

They had all seemed unsatisfied with the usual platitudes - “he’s kind, he’s wise, he understands the Force” - so Obi-Wan decided to show off and mention that Master Qui-Gon had taken him to the kitchens once and let him eat as many sticky rolls as he wanted. The Master in question strode into the room amid oohs and aahs of jealousy, and bid them all to sit down on the floor.

“It’s my understanding from your others Masters that this group in particular lacks the ability to focus in-”

The groan from the class proved Qui-Gon’s point immediately. He sighed.

“This is an essential skill you must all master,” Qui-Gon said, holding up a hand to stave off any more attempts at complaining. “However, we must also recognize the importance of negotiation. So. What must I do to encourage you all to listen to me?”

This was new. Other Masters had lectured them all when they failed to settle down immediately into their less physical lessons. At once, several hands shot up, though none of their owners waited to be called on before speaking. 

“Are you the most tall Jedi Master?”

“Can we braid your hair?”

“What colour is your lightsaber? Did you get to pick? Is it your favourite colour?”

“Can we have sticky rolls? Obi-Wan said that sometimes you have sticky rolls.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes crinkled the way they did when he was about to laugh, though Obi-Wan was the only one to recognize it for what it was. The rest of his face betrayed none of that emotion, and thinking him irritated, the rest of the class trailed off.

“All excellent questions,” he said after a moment. “I shall have to meditate on them. Just as you will meditate on the task I will set you shortly.”

There was a pause as everyone stared at him. 

“And we shall see about the sticky rolls.”

With an almighty cheer, the class settled into their meditative poses and listened as Qui-Gon guided them through various focusing techniques. Obi-Wan felt very proud that the skill came easier to him now than it had when he’d first begun learning it only a few weeks ago. 

He became so lost in his meditation that he felt an increasing awareness of the others around him. This was the purpose of the lesson of course: to learn to sense your comrades through the Force, not relying on the tricks that your eyes could sometimes play. But Obi-Wan found his awareness extending beyond the classroom. Beyond the padded floor, and the enormous windows looking out onto one of the gardens. It extended into the doorway where Qui-Gon stood awaiting the promised plate of sticky rolls. It extended to the group of teenage Padawans watching the proceedings from the corridor, talking amongst themselves. 

The living Force that surrounded him was thrown into flux the moment Qui-Gon re-entered the classroom, carrying with him the enticing scent of fresh pastry. All the students save Obi-Wan had leapt to their feet. The peaceful web they had woven amongst themselves was shredded. 

Though he was dying for a sticky roll, Obi-Wan was curious to see how long he could maintain his own focus. He used the chaos of the room as a challenge and a focal point, and centred himself once again. The awareness came more easily. Qui-Gon. His classmates. The passersby. He reached out until he could sense the teenagers in the hallway once more, only this time, he was actually able to hear what they were saying.

“He is so  _ weird _ .” 

“Not much of a knight at all, is he?”

“All this talk about ‘focus’ and ‘control’ and he can’t even control a room full of  _ kids _ ?”

A monster born of shock and rage roared to life inside Obi-Wan at once. His eyes flew open. He felt as though fire coursed through his veins. How dare they? How  _ dare _ they? His Master was the best there was, and just because a man didn’t fight all the time didn’t mean he  _ couldn’t _ , and Obi-Wan might just go out there and give them a piece of his-

He hadn’t realized that he’d marched halfway out the door until he felt himself being yanked back by his tunic. 

“No, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said quietly.

“Master Jinn, you didn’t hear what-”

“I did. I assure you, they were not being subtle about it.”

“But then why can’t I-”

“We shall discuss this later,” he said gently, placing a large hand on Obi-Wan’s tiny shoulder.

The monster quieted down, simmering away until Obi-Wan couldn’t feel it anymore. Now all he felt was ashamed. He hung his head, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Qui-Gon simply placed a sticky roll in Obi-Wan’s hand.

“Join us when you’re ready,” his Master said with a smile. 

***

“I’m sorry, Master,” Obi-Wan said as soon as they’d arrived back at their quarters.

“For what, Obi-Wan?”

“For getting angry,” he said automatically. “A Jedi mustn’t allow himself to feel things such as anger or fear.”

Qui-Gon spun around in surprise.

“Who told you  _ that _ ?” 

“Uh…”

Obi-Wan honestly couldn’t remember where he’d heard it. It had just become a part of his life, one of the many expectations placed on those who came to the temple.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, kneeling to look his Padawan in the eye, “It is not as though you cannot feel these things.” 

“But aren’t they, you know,” Obi-Wan dropped his voice and cast his eyes around the room nervously, “ _ tools of the Dark side?” _

“They are perfectly natural emotions. What a Jedi must learn  _ in time _ is to control them and be mindful of them so they do not dictate your actions, as they nearly did today.” 

“Oh.”

“Yes. Now that that’s been cleared up, I hope, I must thank you Padawan.“

“For what, Master?”

“For trying to stand up for me when you thought me defenseless. I hope you never lose that instinct.”

***

Master Qui-Gon had told him fear and anger were natural emotions to feel. He said he would learn to control them in time, meaning he didn’t think Obi-Wan was at risk of falling to the Dark side just yet. 

Still, that night, Obi-Wan had a nightmare. His first since being apprenticed to Qui-Gon, and the most vivid one he had ever had. 

He was in an ornate building of some kind, a palace perhaps, but nowhere he had ever seen before. He couldn’t see himself, but he felt older. He was certainly taller, the world around him didn’t look quite so gigantic anymore. 

He was with Master Qui-Gon, and they were running. From someone. But Obi-Wan didn’t know who. 

Why were they running? Why wouldn’t they stand and fight? 

It was his idea to run, he realized. He had begged Master Qui-Gon not to fight  _ him _ \- whoever “him” was - because if he did, he would lose. So Qui-Gon agreed, and they ran.

They were nearly out of the ornate building. Obi-Wan could sense it. They rounded a corner, and stopped short. Their pursuer had found them.

Obi-Wan barely had time to register his face: red, tattooed with thick black lines. His head was horned and his teeth were sharp. 

A monster.

Most distinctive of all were the pair of haunting yellow eyes that stared angrily back at him. 

Obi-Wan woke up with a scream and sat up in bed. His heart was racing and his nightshirt was soaked - thankfully only with sweat, he hadn’t wet the bed in at least a year. He could still see the terrible yellow eyes, as though they hung in the air in front of him. 

He heard a rustling outside his bedroom. Oh no! He’d woken Master Qui-Gon. He hastily lay back down and screwed his eyes shut. He was vaguely aware of his Master poking his head into the room, but didn’t dare look. Qui-Gon stayed for a moment, then retreated back to his own bed. As his heart slowed back down, Obi-Wan was able to fall back asleep. 

Another strange dream found him then. He was older than he’d been in his first dream, and with another man. It wasn’t Master Qui-Gon, this man was younger than that, he knew, even though he couldn’t see his face clearly. 

The two of them were fighting, duelling over something, he wasn’t sure what. The young man was an expert swordsman, but Obi-Wan was holding his own with great success. 

Finally, they came to a stop. The other man howled in rage. 

“I hate you!” he screamed. He turned to resume attacking Obi-Wan, and that was when he noticed the man’s eyes.

The same terrible shade of yellow.

He sat up again, this time with a wail of fear. It was too much. He wasn’t a baby. He  _ knew _ he was too old for this. But still he started to cry.

Qui-Gon rushed into the room at once, so quickly Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he’d actually gone back to bed. 

He sat next to Obi-Wan and pulled him into his long arms. Qui-Gon cradled his head comfortingly, the way his papa used to when he had a nightmare. He let the small boy cry until he ran out of tears and resorted to hiccups instead.

“It was a nightmare, Obi-Wan. Nothing more.”

“It felt so  _ real _ ,” Obi-Wan said hoarsely.

“Nightmares often do. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I was...it was...um…”

The more he tried to remember what had scared him so badly, the harder it was to conjure up the image. Finally he gave up and shook his head.

“I don’t remember, Master.”

“Just as well, then. Back to bed with you.”

Obi-Wan lay back down and got comfortable. He expected Qui-Gon to leave immediately, but to his surprise, his Master stayed with him, one hand resting on his head, until he drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon relieves some stress and Obi-Wan sees something he shouldn't

It was rare these days for Qui-Gon to be alone, particularly when one’s shadow was three feet smaller and required training, so when he received a comm from Sassé asking if he was able to spar, Qui-Gon quickly left his Padawan in the hands of the saber instructors and strode to the Master’s dojo a few corridors down.

The Temple guard was already there and stretching, blue hair tied back in a loose ponytail not dissimilar to Qui-Gon’s own, and she smiled as he walked in and bowed. 

“You have my thanks Master.” 

Sassé chuckled. “Padawan a bit much? Don’t lie Qui-Gon, I can see that little crease between your eyebrows. What you need is a drink and to talk to Master Sobaaks about my time training under him...any Padawan you have would be Ashla herself.”

Qui-Gon’s lips quirked into a small grin; generally Temple guards were reclusive, preferring only to be seen in their full gear and were generally less than talkative when doing so. Sassé was a rare exception: trained by a Trandoshan Jedi Master known more for his socialization of the criminal class of Coruscant than the political figureheads of the Senate, she’d had an unconventional training that gave her a bit more of a lackadaisical attitude toward the generally strict Code...so of course she and Qui-Gon had become friends, taking tea together and sparring when schedules allowed. 

It had been a while since he’d actively sparred against something other than the dojo’s preprogrammed holos, so Qui-Gon made sure to stretch and open himself up to the Force more than he generally did. Temple guards were some of the most skilled saber masters in the Order and he knew from experience that Sassé would not go easy on him.

“Old bones warm?”

Sassé stood at the end of the sparring ring, one hand on her hip, the other with her saber staff folded against her waist. Qui-Gon grunted and shucked off his outer robe, tossing it carelessly to the side of the room. Unclipping his lightsaber from his belt, he ignited the emerald blade and brought it to his face and pointed it down to the floor in the traditional salute before battle. Sassé mimicked the movement, one yellow blade snapping into existence, illuminating her face in a golden glow. The two Jedi stilled, reaching out to the Force and each other for what was about to happen. A Jedi was never supposed to draw their blade in anger, only for self-defense, but Qui-Gon couldn’t help but admit to himself that he had always felt a little more alive as the humming of the blades were the only sound between the two Masters. 

Battle meditation was different than actual meditation: it was a game of interpretation, following the tendrils of the Force through and around people, places, and situations to see how they connected, divided, and would either be crucial or detrimental in determining the outcome of the fight. One-on-one fighting was both difficult and easier; easy because one could focus on the challenger, harder because to win, you had to know the Force and your enemy: what made them tick, how they fought, _why_ they fought. Qui-Gon had been in enough battles during his apprenticeship that the first was easy; the second required something that drifted perilously close to what the Jedi had forbidden: attachment. Fighting was as intimate as dancing and just as vulnerable; one could learn much from the way another moved, but to reach out into the Force and actually feel the fight was an entirely different matter. It shifted colors like a Chandrilian tapestry, one angle would present itself a certain color, the next slight breeze making everything shimmer and shift into something completely different. It was predicting those shifts that lay at the heart of the battle and, as Sassé lept, Qui-Gon was ready.

Emerald and yellow met with a clash and just as quickly, spun apart. With a flurry of movements, Qui-Gon went on the attack. He had the advantage of height and weight against the smaller woman, but she could also use those to her advantage as well, spinning and dodging the whirling blade as she parried, working to find an opening. Both moved too fast for the normal eye to see, blades whirling and snapping like a vexis hunting its next meal, but in it Qui-Gon found peace. No longer was he worried that Obi-Wan’s nightmares were some omen of what was to come, no more did he worry about the fact he hadn’t heard anything from his old master since he had left for Serenno, no more did he worry that he would never be _enough_ for his Padawan...no past, no present, no future...just the Force and he could feel Sassé in it as well. Her aura smoldered like the lava flats of Mustafar: solid, steady, and patient, with the ability to burn anyone who dared threaten her chosen family and their home. It was that mindset that made her such a good guard and why, as she flipped over Qui-Gon, he nearly missed blocking her second blade as it suddenly blazed into existence.

Hauling the lightsaber behind his back, he barely parried the blow and found himself whirling and pedaling backwards. He was on the defensive and Sassé knew it, but she didn’t show even a glimmer of gloating as she whirled the staff that was nearly her own height around her body as if it weighed no more than a Padawan stick. The continued sparring for Force knew how long, long enough for sweat to begin coating Qui-Gon’s hands, making the saber slick. If the sheen on Sassé was any indication, she was feeling the same way, but the Force was with the two of them and they continued, finding a release that was available no other way. 

Qui-Gon suddenly became aware of a smaller, brighter presence in the doorway and his gaze flickered over to see Obi-Wan standing there, mouth agape. The distraction was what Sassé needed. One end of the staff came up, crackling against where blade and hilt met, and the force behind the blow was enough for Qui-Gon’s guard to drop as the other blade swung to rest just inches from his throat.

Finally allowing herself a smile, Sassé said, “Master Jinn I’m surprised...I thought nothing could distract you.”

The blade was still humming perilously close to his cheek as Qui-Gon met her teasing gaze and said evenly, “You and I both know that’s not quite true now is it?”

Deactivating the blades, Sassé bowed and Qui-Gon caught the faintest hint of color in her face as she murmured, “Indeed, Master Jedi. Another time?”

“I look forward to it.”

Grabbing her grey cloak from where she had lain it, Sassé clipped her now folded tulip-shaped saber to her belt and, as she passed Obi-Wan, whispered in a voice Qui-Gon barely heard, “You have a good master...one of the best. But I think he’s lucky to have you as well.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened as she gave him a small wink and strode from the room, blue hair swinging jauntily at the top of her head.

Obi-Wan’s gaze swung to meet his masters as he said, “Who was she master?”

Clearing his throat, Qui-Gon said, “A...friend. Master Sassé is one of the best saber wielders of the Order...and she is also a Temple guard.”

“A Temple guard?!” Obi-Wan’s eyes looked ready to pop out of his head and Qui-Gon laughed.

“Yes...maybe if we ask, she can give you a lesson sometime...give you some training away from the group classes.”

Obi-Wan straightened, as if remembering he was no longer a baby to be given sticks at saber practice, and said solemnly, “I would like that.”

Qui-Gon nodded and filed it away for later. Maybe he could ask in person...after all, Sassé was very busy and didn’t need to be bogged down with comm calls that could easily be a simple conversation…

His comm beeped. _Speak of the devil_ , Qui-Gon thought. Keying it on, he said, “Qui-Gon.”

“Master Qui-Gon, a mission for you and your Padawan the Council has. To the Council chambers come at once.”

Looking down at Obi-Wan, he saw the barely-restrained eagerness in the gaze and couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice as he replied, “Right away Master Yoda.”

***  
The shuttle screamed toward Nal Hutta and Qui-Gon forced himself to remain calm, relaxed, and focused. The fact that he and his Padawan who wasn’t even old enough to begin shaving were heading toward the most dangerous of all the cartels in the galaxy had him thinking that jumping into a Sarlacc pit gave him a better odds of survival than this.

“Master Jinn?”

Qui-Gon looked down to see Obi-Wan looking up at him. What surprised the older man was that there was no trace of the same emotion Qui-Gon himself was attempting to get under control. Instead, the blue eyes were serious, alight with purpose and no small measure of confidence as he met his Master’s gaze.

“The Hutts will listen to the Republic. They have to...right?”

“Obi-Wan.” Like he did so many months before, Qui-Gon crouched down in front of his pupil, hand coming to settle on his shoulder.

“The Hutts are dangerous gangsters who abide by their own set of rules and ethics. They are masters of deception and Jedi mind tricks do not work on them. They are to be approached with respect and deference, but always keep in mind that they always have one thing on their mind: their own interests and survival.”

Obi-Wan’s face bunched up slightly as he processed this information. “Then why are we coming here?”

“Because right now it is in the Hutt’s best interest and survival to listen to what the Jedi and Senate have to say.”

“And will they?”

Straightening as the shuttle began its landing cycle, Qui-Gon tucked his hands into his robes and said softly, “I certainly hope so.”

***

Gardulla the Hutt may have been downgraded to lackey against her competitor Jabba within the Council hierarchy, but she made up for it with an impressive array of guards, bounty hunters, and just general populace content to be party-goers to the traditionally elaborate and debauched parties Nal Hutta was known for. Certainly the way she was looking down on the Jedi Master and his diminutive Padawan made Qui-Gon feel as if he was only a few inches tall, a rarity for him. He knew that the dias on which Gardulla sat upon was meant to intimidate and he had traveled through the galaxy for far too long to let such petty tactics work on him. 

Obi-Wan surprised him again.

The boy, instead of being terrified and small, a normal response in any Padawan considering the circumstances, walked tall, hands folded into the robes the same as his master. His blue eyes betrayed only a hint of his nerves, flickering to and fro, assessing the room and everyone in it. Qui-Gon felt the boy reach out the way he had been taught and felt a flicker of pride as the boy met his gaze with a steady one belying his years.

The Hutt spoke and though Qui-Gon’s Huttese was relatively passable, he waited for the 3PO translator droid.

“The great Gardulla wants to know why the Republic has sent a Jedi to negotiate what is a private settlement between the great Hutt clan and the Mining Guild Corporations.”

“Under Republic law, the Mining Guild answers to the corporations who are responsible for the taxation of the hyperspace lanes through their trade routes...as of right now, that corporation is the Republic. The Hutt’s attempt to conceal this deal from the Republic was surely an oversight on the venerable Gardulla and the Hutt Council’s part and I’m sure we will be able to reach an agreement that benefits all parties.”

Gardulla roared incoherently, spewing out another string of garbled Huttese, and beside him, Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan flinch reflexively. While he couldn’t influence the Hutt’s mind, Qui-Gon could feel and influence the general mood of the room. What was once tense had slowly been tweaked and turned to a more lackadaisical atmosphere; many of the Gamorrean’s loosening their grips on their axes, bounty hunters beginning to lounge leisurely against walls, and casual observers eyeing the bottom of their drinks, as if the sooner the negotiations were over, the sooner they could get back to blissful oblivion with their poison of choice. 

Turning his focus back to Gardulla, Qui-Gon sensed her irritation at having been discovered and the desire to wrap this up before the Republic got more suspicious and started looking too closely at what else the Hutt Council could possibly be hiding. 

Gardulla finished her tirade and the droid turned back to the pair of Jedi and said mechanically, “The almighty Gardulla wishes no ill will toward the Jedi or the Republic and bids you send a financial representative to Nal Hutta as soon as possible so negotiations can commence between the parties.”

Bowing low, Qui-Gon said, “You are too generous mighty Gardulla. We thank you for your wisdom in this matter and the Senate will be in contact with you shortly.”

“One moment please.”

The droid’s voice was as unchanging as ever, but Qui-Gon sensed the relaxed atmosphere shift and his hands, still concealed in his robes, drifted slightly downward to where his lightsaber was clipped to his belt.

Turning back to the Hutt with a blase smile, Qui-Gon silently inclined his head toward Gardulla. Obi-Wan was a step behind his master, small body partially hidden behind the broad Jedi. Padawans were not sent to Ilum before they were taken on by masters so Obi-Wan was still borrowing one of the Temple’s many blades, but Qui-Gon made a note to correct that as soon as they got back; a lightsaber, particularly a bonded one, was a Jedi’s lifeline in violence and he cursed himself internally for not making the trip sooner as he waited for the Hutt to continue.

“To celebrate the reopening of negotiations, the benevolent Gardulla wishes for you and your youngling to stay for a celebration held in your honor Master Jedi.”

Knowing he didn’t have much of a choice, Qui-Gon smiled tightly. “You are too generous, honorable Gardulla; it would be our pleasure.”

Another booming command and immediately, music and laughter filled the air, all sense of danger gone. 

Moving his hands away from the lightsaber, Qui-Gon cocked a wry eyebrow at his Padawan and, extending his hand, Obi-Wan took it without hesitation as they weaved through the revelers to find a secluded corner of the room.

Settling into a chair, Qui-Gon crossed his long legs over the other and watched as Obi-Wan scrambled up into the seat opposite. His feet dangled a foot or so off the ground and the boy’s legs swung absentmindedly as his gaze raked over the room once more.

“You did well.”

The comment made the boy jump, then blush, as he looked sideways at his master. 

“Not many Jedi, let alone Padawans, are able to read a room quite like you did. It was impressive and a most useful tool, particularly if you find yourself on negotiation missions like this one.”

“Does this type of mission happen often?”

Qui-Gon sighed. “More and more these days I’m afraid. The Republic has known peace for a long time and has let many discrepancies fall by the wayside and there are many who would take advantage of that oversight…”

He trailed off, not wanting sharp-eared creatures to overhear and report him to the Hutt, but Obi-Wan nodded in understanding.

“Thank you master.”

“What do you think about traveling to Ilum when all this is over? Of course we will need to return to Coruscant and speak with your instructors but-”

“Can we?” Obi-Wan breathed, eyes alight with excitement and already daydreaming of building his own lightsaber. 

Qui-Gon laughed. “Of course. Now, I think it would be appropriate for you to go back to the ship and settle in for the night; Hutt parties are no place for Padawans or their Masters, but it would unfortunately be rude of me to step aside so early in the evening. Come, Obi-Wan.”

Surprisingly, Obi-Wan didn’t argue, and Qui-Gon was certain it was because the boy was so lost in the daydream of his lightsaber, he had decided the best and fastest way to achieve that goal was to listen to every word his master said up until the point where the kyber was in his hand. 

Locking the ship behind him, Qui-Gon reentered the party and, nodding to Gardulla as he passed, found a corner to stand in. Large social gatherings were always an interesting place to be for a Jedi: so many emotions and feelings in the air that filled the Force with a strange sort of smokey haze similar to incense. What flavor it took on was dependent on the individuals in question and Hutt parties, with their infamous debauchery, spice usage, and _lax_ physical restrictions created a mire of desire, disorientation, and looseness that could send even the most stalwart Jedi reeling. Qui-Gon had never considered himself a master at anything, but the number of parties and social gatherings he had attended with Master Dooku in his youth had more than prepared him for what the galaxy offered and he watched the events unfolding around him with a clear head and alert eyes.

The room had darkened as inhibitions loosened and Qui-Gon felt as much as saw bodies intertwining, pressing, and moving as one across the entire room and it was only through his training that he was able to let the overwhelming sensations pass through and around him, as if he were nothing more than a rock in the river of the Force. Gardulla herself seemed occupied with a particularly muscular Twi’lek and Qui-Gon figured it was as good a time as any to take his leave for the evening. He could always say his goodbyes to the Hutt tomorrow...if she was awake before the trade ambassador arrived.

Striding toward the archway, Qui-Gon was almost to the sand-blasted door when he stopped dead in his tracks. 

Obi-Wan was peeking out from behind the curve of the arch, eyes wide as he watched the mass of bodies out in the party area. His eyes went wide as he saw Qui-Gon looking back at him and the boy scampered off back down the corridor to where the ship lay docked.

Sighing deeply, Qui-Gon snatched a drink from a passing server droid and threw the liquid back, the alcohol burning his throat.

Apparently, they needed to have a chat before heading to Ilum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do Jedi have a version of The Talk?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan learns some facts of life and Qui-Gon learns the importance of carrying...medicinal...drinks on board the shuttle

Obi-Wan sprinted back the way he’d come, convinced his Master was right behind him, even closer than he’d first realized. He didn’t dare look back, he just tore through the corridor and back to the ship as fast as his legs could carry him. Would Master Qui-Gon chase him? He figured not, only because if the older man had, then doubtless he would have caught up by now. 

By some miracle, he made it up the ramp onto the ship without anyone stopping to inquire why a small Jedi Padawan was racing at full speed through Gardulla’s palace. Then again, he’d be surprised if any of them actually  _ noticed _ him. They’d been so preoccupied doing...whatever it was they were doing. Something Master Qui-Gon clearly hadn’t wanted Obi-Wan to see. 

Obi-Wan found his bunk and dove underneath the covers, belateadly remembering he hadn’t removed his boots, and had probably tracked in all manner of filth. It was too late to do anything about it now. He could hear Master Qui-Gon climbing the ramp now. He shut his eyes tightly and held very still. 

“Obi-Wan?”

He cursed his treasonous heart for pounding as hard as it did. He was certain Master Qui-Gon would be able to hear it. Then he would know for sure that Obi-Wan had snuck off the ship. Then he would take him before the council, and they would decide he just wasn’t ready to be a Padawan and he’d be sent back to the creche in disgrace. 

Or worse, he’d be sent away from the Temple. 

“Master Jinn, please don’t send me away!” he cried, sitting up in bed, his alarm plain on his face.

“Send you away?” Qui-Gon asked. “Why ever would I do that?”

“Because I disobeyed you Master. Please forgive me.”

Obi-Wan climbed out of bed and stood before Qui-Gon, standing as straight and tall as his small frame would allow. He was thoroughly ashamed of himself. Had it not been just that afternoon when Master Qui-Gon had commended him for his maturity in Gadulla’s throne room? Obi-Wan was willing to bet his Master regretted those comments now. 

“Obi-Wan…” Qui-Gon began. The older man shook his head. “Come. Sit.”

He gestured for Obi-Wan to join him at the small table in the common area of the ship. Obi-Wan scrambled up onto the bench, his legs not so short that they stuck out in front of him - he wasn’t a  _ baby _ \- but still dangling several inches off the ground. 

He watched as Master Qui-Gon poured them two cups of tea. He took a small bottle out of a higher cupboard and poured a small amount into one drink but not the other. Qui-Gon set the cups down on the table, and at once Obi-Wan reached for the special cup. With lightning speed, Qui-Gon swiped the cup out of his grasp.

“That one is mine, Padawan.”

“You put something in there,” Obi-Wan observed. “Was it to make your tea sweeter?”

He tried to sit up taller and peek inside the cup, as though he would receive some kind of visual confirmation as to the contents.

“No,” Qui-Gon laughed. “But it does change the taste.”

“Can I try some?”

“You won’t like it, Obi-Wan.”

“Oh,” the boy said, deflating. Qui-Gon sighed and peered back towards the entrance to the ship. He pushed his tea towards Obi-Wan.

“If you like the smell, you may take the  _ tiniest _ of sips. And you aren’t to tell anyone back at the temple.”

_ A secret? _ Obi-Wan thought.  _ Were Jedi allowed to have secrets? _

He leaned forwards, his small face hovering over the steaming mug, and inhaled. He’d expected the earthy smell of the tea, perhaps mixed with something sweet. What he got instead was something closer to hot engine fuel.

He gagged and sat back coughing. How could his Master drink something so vile? Then it occurred to him that perhaps his Master must be ill. The medicine Vonnuvi used to give them in the creche when they were sick was often vile as well. So he tried to be a good, considerate Padawan, and inquired if Master Qui-Gon was feeling sick.

“No Obi-Wan, I am not. And this isn’t medicine, it’s...well, it’s for grown ups. Speaking of which…”

His Master’s voice turned serious now.

“We need to talk about what you just saw.”

“I didn’t-” Obi-Wan started to deny that he’d been outside at all. 

But it wouldn’t do to tell such an obvious lie. 

“I don’t know what I saw, Master,” he admitted at last. “It looked like everyone was...dancing…with their bodies  _ and _ their faces.”

Master Qui-Gon choked on his tea, and coughed violently. It looked a little like he was laughing, but that couldn’t be right. Nothing Obi-Wan had seen outside was particularly funny. Judging by some of the sounds, it seemed more painful than anything else. He shared his observation with Qui-Gon. After all, if he’d already been praised once for his astute observational skills, he wanted to prove he could be just as attentive when not on duty.

“It wasn’t pain, you heard, Padawan. It was something altogether more pleasant than that.”

“It didn’t sound like it,” Obi-Wan replied, sounding skeptical.

“It’s an act...an experience...shared among the adults of a species. Perhaps I shouldn’t say ‘adults’, but certainly the more grown up members of a species. Those who have reached a certain age.”

“But what  _ is _ it?”

“It is something very natural, a way of experiencing connection and intimacy with another, or others. The way it connects all different peoples, bringing them together despite surface differences is actually quite beautiful in its way.”

“There was nothing beautiful about what I saw, Master,” Obi-Wan said shaking his head. “It was...confusing.”

“I thought I had some time before you and I would have to have this conversation. What I am about to tell you, Obi-Wan, is something generally only taught to older children. I will explain as much as I am able, and as much as I feel it is appropriate for you to hear, but no more. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Very well. Hmm. Perhaps we should start here. Obi-Wan, do you know how human children are produced?”

“All children are a gift of the Force,” Obi-Wan recited automatically. 

“In a larger sense, of course.” Qui-Gon agreed quickly. “But I mean in a more grounded sense.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. Master Qui-Gon then went on to explain exactly  _ how _ humans reproduced, and with every word he spoke, Obi-Wan’s eyes grew wider and wider in horror. This was  _ disgusting _ . He couldn’t believe that anyone would do this willingly. 

Matters were made far worse when Master Qui-Gon went on to explain that humans not only did this for the purpose of having children, but sometimes engaged in the act deliberately.  _ For fun _ . 

“Does everyone have to do that when they grow up?” Obi-Wan asked, his nose wrinkled.

“Only if they wish to, Padawan, it is by no means mandatory.”

“And Jedi?” Obi-Wan asked, knowing that the Force sometimes called in them to perform services and acts not expected of most beings.

“Well,” Qui-Gon said thoughtfully, “Jedi are generally discouraged from forming such attachments in theory, though in practice, if-”

“Good!” Obi-Wan interjected. “Because I will  _ never _ do anything so disgusting.”

Qui-Gon only smiled and nodded, and sent the Padawan off to bed. Drifting off to sleep, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel that his master was only humouring him.

***

The trip back to Coruscant was a largely silent one, as Obi-Wan spent the bulk of it contemplating everything he had seen and trying to make it line up with what Qui-Gon had told him. The long quiet hours were occasionally punctuated by sudden questions from the confused Padawan. 

“Master Jinn,” he asked, cracking a single eye open while the two of them were meant to be meditating. “You said beings do...that...to have babies, but also for fun sometimes.”

“I did,” Qui-Gon replied, opening his own eyes with a sigh.

“So do they have babies every time?” Obi-Wan could not stop visualizing Gardulla’s palace, a few short months from now, absolutely overrun with children who had resulted from the amusements at the party that night.

“No, Obi-Wan. There are ways to prevent that.”

“Ways like what?”

“That is a conversation - a very necessary one, I might add - for when you are older.”

“But-”

“Padawan, you are meant to be meditating. Meditate on your questions if you wish, but please do so in silence.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head and closed his eyes once more. He did as Master Qui-Gon suggested he might, and let himself get lost in his questions. He tried to answer as many as he could on his own, and was having some success, until a question surfaced at the front of his mind. A question so pressing it tore itself out of his throat before he had a chance to stop it.

“Master Jinn, have  _ you _ ever-?”

“Obi-Wan!”

After that, Qui-Gon gave up on the meditation lesson, and tasked Obi-Wan with practicing some new saber techniques, hoping the physical activity might tire him out. 

Obi-Wan first practiced with the wooden saber he’d brought along with him, making sure he mastered each step, swing and parry in the pattern before he dared try it with the real thing. Once he felt confident, he took the saber he’d borrowed from the temple in hand and ignited it. The blade hummed to life at once, glowing a bright green just like Master Qui-Gon’s saber.

He was already wild with excitement at the prospect of travelling to Ilum to find his own kyber crystal. Any attempts to school his emotions to the acceptable range for a young Jedi were abandoned fairly quickly. There were days at the temple where he couldn’t quite believe this was his life. That he got to live in this place and learn these things. It felt like a dream that could be snatched away at any moment. 

But having a lightsaber - a lightsaber of his very own, that he built himself - would make the whole thing feel far more real. And when the time came to find his crystal, he hoped it would be green, just like his Master’s.

***

They arrived back on Coruscant in mid-morning. Qui-Gon guided their ship down to one of the landing bays, while Obi-Wan pressed his freckled nose against the viewport, his eyes frantically scanning every visible aspect of the city-planet to see how much had changed while he was away. It seemed nothing had. But how could that be when he himself felt so different in the wake of a successful mission and in possession of knowledge forbidden to others his age?

They took lunch in their quarters. Qui-Gon would not be presenting his report to the Jedi Council until the next morning, at which point he would also request permission to send his Padawan to Ilum. Obi-Wan was disappointed that they would not be leaving right away, but schooled his expression into a quiet understanding. Patience was a key virtue of the Jedi after all.

After they had eaten, Master Qui-Gon presented him with a choice: he could attend afternoon lessons with the other Padawans, or he could take the remainder of the day to rest. Obi-Wan was so excited to see his friends again, he shot out of his seat and scrambled for the door, returning to belatedly call out “bye, Master”. He left once again, the sound of Qui-Gon’s good-natured chuckle echoing behind him.

On arrival in his usual classroom, Obi-Wan was at once swarmed by the others. They demanded to know everything about his first mission with his master. Everyone knew where they had been - there were no secrets in the temple, not really. What were the Hutts like? What had he seen? What had he learned?

He hesitated. Master Qui-Gon said that the conversation he’d had with Obi-Wan was generally intended for older students. But if Obi-Wan had been able to handle it, why couldn’t the rest of his class. They were all Padawans after all, and this class in particular was often commended by their masters for their maturity. 

So he told them everything. Or as much as he was able to in any case, before their training Master arrived. Their reactions had been remarkably similar to his, and he tried to answer their questions as best he could. When their master, a middle-aged Miralan man, entered, the mood in the room shifted noticeably. The Padawans tried to not let their wide range of feelings and questions show openly, lest the Master discover what they were speaking of. 

It only sort of worked.

“I sense confusion in this room,” the Miralan said, narrowing his eyes. “Would someone care to explain?”

To their credit, none of Obi-Wan’s classmates said a word. They all stood in silence until the Master gave up, and assigned them a series of rather punishing physical exercises meant to build strength and endurance, but which Obi-Wan believed to be legalized torture inflicted solely on secretive Padawans. 

***

He rose early the next morning, stirred out of sleep by the sounds of Master Qui-Gon in the living area of their quarters. He shuffled out of his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His Master was dressed in his full tunic and robes, as opposed to the more comfortable training clothes he usually wore in the mornings, looking every inch the heroic Jedi Knight.

“Good morning, Obi-Wan,” he called.

“Mornin’,” Obi-Wan mumbled.

“I’m to speak with the council this morning, can I trust you to look after your own lessons for today? You may either remain here or head to the archives. The choice is yours.”

Obi-Wan simply nodded. Qui-Gon placed a hand affectionately on his head, then swept out of their quarters. Obi-Wan was too tired to walk  _ all the way _ down to the archives, so instead he busied himself in the living area. He meditated, practiced some of the newer saber patterns he’d learned, and even tried some of the exercises that had been inflicted on him the day before.

He was just starting to wonder how long the meeting with the council would take, when the door to their quarters slid open and a temple attendant entered. 

“Padawan Kenobi,” the attendant said solemnly. “Your presence is requested in the Council chambers.”

His heart dropped into his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is he in trouble? Or about to get some good news?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A moment Master Jinn. The Council has received...reports from other Masters regarding their padawans and young Kenobi...it seems he has been educating the younglings in his class about certain... _knowledge_. Knowledge it seems he learned from you."

Qui-Gon finished his report to the Council and waited patiently, hands folded in his robes. The silence following his account didn't concern him, the Council generally liked to sit and absorb the new information both intellectually and through the Force so his mind was open and relaxed as Yoda broke the silence.

"Grateful we are Master Jinn, to you and your Padawan both."

"Yes," Master Windu acquiesced, "From what you've told us, the Hutts will not be an issue for a while and if they do, they will think twice before trying something like that again."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I agree; it seems they were testing the bounds of the Republic's resolve to see how much they would enforce these new trade route taxations. I doubt they will be so quick to try it in the near future."

"Your Padawan also seemed to conduct himself quite well for one so young."

Qui-Gon allowed his expression to shift into one of pride. "He did. Obi-Wan may be young but he carries himself older than his years which is why I've submitted him for your approval to make the trip to Ilum." 

_Older now too that we've had that...discussion._ Qui-Gon had deliberately left out that bit of information from the report, not because he was afraid of reprimand (he'd been summoned to the Council chambers for far more serious issues than speaking of natural biological functions) but he wished to spare his Padawan the inevitable questioning that would follow should the Council learn of it.

Turning his focus back to the Council, Master Yoda grunted softly. "Agree the Council does that Padawan Kenobi has made excellent progress in his training. To Ilum he will go tomorrow morning."

Bowing to the small green Jedi, Qui-Gon could barely keep the smile out of his voice as he murmured, "Thank you my masters."

He turned toward the door to leave, but Plo Koon's gravelly voice stopped him.

"A moment Master Jinn. The Council has received...reports from other Masters regarding their padawans and young Kenobi...it seems he has been educating the younglings in his class about certain... _knowledge_. Knowledge it seems he learned from you."

_Blast_. Well, it seemed there would be no getting around the conversation now.

Turning back to the Council with a placid expression on his face, Qui-Gon deliberately willed himself to remain unaffected as he said mildly, "And what sort of _knowledge_ has my padawan been imparting?"

"It seems…" Master Plo was one of the more lenient of the Council and Qui-Gon could sense wry amusement through the Force and the Kel Dor's respirator as he said, "It seems the information was of a _carnal_ nature and that there were more questions than answers according to Master Kivu. You wouldn’t happen to have the answers they seek would you?”

“If I can explain-”

“Yes, please do,” Master Windu said dryly. None of the Council seemed upset, just vaguely amused and curious as to why Qui-Gon even had to have the conversation in the first place; generally this talk was reserved for older Padawans and in a group setting where there was a Master or medical droid on hand to answer any questions they group may have.

“Padawan Kenobi got...curious after I sent him away for the night from Gardulla’s palace and saw things that, as we all know, Hutt parties are rather infamous for. It was not his intention to disobey, just to satisfy a natural curiosity about the unknown that all children have. I’m sure each of our masters in turn could tell stories of when we stuck our noses too close to a gundark’s nest. To stave off any...misinformation Obi-Wan would have potentially gleaned on his own, I thought it best to inform him directly as his master and as is my responsibility in these matters.”

Qui-Gon kept his voice even and steady, allowing the Force to flow through him and infuse the truth of his words to the Council. He didn’t say it aloud, but fervently hoped that the Council would not rescind their decision to send Obi-Wan to Ilum. Qui-Gon had sensed no ill-will in the boy when he had sent him off to that now-fateful class, and had an inkling that once summoned to the chambers by the Council, the boy’s predisposition for following the rules and Code would quell any lingering doubts the Council may have had about the boy’s true motives in divulging the information.

“Hmmmm…” Yoda’s ears were flattened in concentration and his normally wide gaze was narrowed as he looked through the words, both spoken and unsaid, through the Force.

Opening them, his amber gaze bored into Qui-Gon’s blue ones and Qui-Gon had the sudden sense that Yoda was now evaluating _him_ , but for what and why he couldn't discern.

Seeming satisfied with his findings, Yoda tapped his grimer stick and said beyond Qui-Gon’s shoulder, “Send for Padawan Kenobi. To Ilum he will go.”

Barely concealing his exhale of relief, Qui-Gon bowed low and tucked his hands back into his robes as he waited for the attendant to return with his Padawan.

He didn’t have to wait long. 

Obi-Wan’s anxiety rippled through the Force like a tidal wave and Qui-Gon knew that every Council member felt it as the door slid open and Obi-Wan walked through alone. The boy’s face was wan, drawn tight with nerves, and Qui-Gon watched as he reflexively reached for his Padawan braid, remembered where he was, and dropped his hand. 

Coming to stand next to Qui-Gon and adopting his master’s pose of respect and formality, Obi-Wan bowed low and straightened, his eyes looking above the Council and out the wide viewports of the chambers that led to view of the city-planet. Qui-Gon tried to reach out through the Force to the boy, but his roiling emotions combined with his attempt to quell them, made Qui-Gon get the feeling that it would be akin to wading through a tsunami to reach Obi-Wan the way he wished, and merely contented himself with maintaining his own air of serenity.

“How feel you Padawan Kenobi?”

Yoda’s question had the boy flinching and answering reflexively, “Fine Master Yoda.”

“Not anxious are you about your trip to Ilum tomorrow?”

“Ilum? But I thought…” he trailed off and finally met Qui-Gon’s gaze. Qui-Gon merely cocked an eyebrow at the boy and flicked his gaze to where the Council sat.

Obi-Wan understood. Turning back to Master Yoda, he bowed and murmured, “Thank you. I promise to make the Council proud.”

“Take care Padawan Kenobi,” Mace Windu intoned, “Ilum is not a right, it is a privilege and I hope you will not only make us, but your master proud as well.”

_I already am_ , Qui-Gon thought as he bowed to the Council and turned to finally leave the chambers, Obi-Wan hot on his heels.

Master and apprentice walked in silence for the entire trip back to their quarters. Qui-Gon was still relaxed and could sense the slowly shifting emotions from Obi-Wan turn from anxiety to muted excitement at the upcoming trip the next day. There was a small spring in the boy’s step as they entered their shared living space and, as the door slid shut behind the pair, Obi-Wan blurted, “Master Jinn, I’m going to Ilum!”

The older man chuckled softly, allowing his features to soften into a grin that he had been holding back the entire Council session. “Was there ever any doubt padawan?”

“Well…” The boy shuffled his feet and Qui-Gon knew that it was in response to his earlier lack of discretion regarding what was supposed to have been a private conversation. 

Qui-Gon didn’t say a word, merely let the boy work up the courage to admit his fault, when Obi-Wan blurted, “Master, I’m so sorry, please don’t-”

Qui-Gon held up a hand and the boy instantly fell silent. Anxiety had taken center stage again and Qui-Gon was bound and determined to put it to rest once and for all.

“Did the Council ever tell you why I decided to take on a Padawan?"

The sudden shift in subject had the boy falling silent, confused as to where this line of questioning was going.

Taking his silence for "no," Qui-Gon continued. "It was because I wanted very much to take on a pupil who not only was strong with the Force, but strong with their feelings as well. When I heard tales of an older youngling deemed 'too wild' and 'too old' for the Jedi, I knew without a sliver of a doubt that that was who I was meant to train. Anyone can be strong in the Force Obi-Wan but it takes a special type of person to live it as well. You feel every action and emotion as deeply as an ocean and that is both your greatest strength and weakness...to master this, one must become nothing and everything all at once, a conduit for the living Force. Why the Force wanted us to find each other I cannot say. All I know is that you are not only strong with the Force, but strong with compassion, empathy, and courage, which is why the Council...why I have deemed you ready for Ilum. 

Ilum is not a place for the fearful, the doubt-filled, or unwise. It is a place of sacred knowledge and wisdom that can only be gleaned from inside oneself. You must understand what I am saying to you now Obi-Wan, otherwise the path to your kyber will be long and arduous.

Don’t focus on your anxieties Obi-Wan, allow the living Force to flow through and around you, it will guide your way and allow you to face your fears head-on. _That_ has been the purpose of our training exercises together; to allow you to learn the Force and feel it in a way that is natural for you...not how I feel it, not how Master Yoda or Master Windu feels it, but for _you_. That is the secret to finding your kyber; becoming both yourself and one with the Force.”

“But I thought Jedi couldn’t be afraid or feel emotions?”

Qui-Gon huffed a small laugh. “Jedi are allowed to feel every emotion Obi-Wan, we just don’t let it consume us or guide our actions. Instead, we allow the Force to take the emotions from us after we recognize and acknowledge them and then focus on the task at hand. Control is a path to the dark side and if we allow our emotions to consume and dictate our every waking moment, we are no better than a puppet on a string. This is what separates us from the Sith: control versus surrender, emotions yet peace. The Council and I may disagree on many things padawan, but in this we are the same.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze was solemn as he silently listened and Qui-Gon felt rather than saw the boy relax, his shoulders softening, the lines around his eyes loosening, and Qui-Gon himself suddenly felt much older than his years as his Padawan nodded solemnly and said, “I think I understand. I am ready master.”

“I know you are Obi-Wan. Now, off to bed, you have a long day tomorrow.”

*** 

The morning dawned same as all the others, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan meditating together, and Qui-Gon was proud to sense that Obi-Wan had seemed to have taken their talk last night to heart; he hadn’t had a nightmare in a few weeks and a sense of calm had seemed to settle over the boy. How long it would last before Ilum though, remained to be seen. 

The pair walked to the Temple loading docks where a small transport shuttle awaited. A small cadre of masters and pupils were milling about, talking quietly amongst themselves, a few waving in greeting to Qui-Gon as he and Obi-Wan came into view. Qui-Gon joined a small group of masters and spoke quietly together, watching as their padawans milled about anxiously, whispering and nudging each other as they awaited Master Yoda. A pair of Temple guards stood silently on either end of the loading dock and would be accompanying the younglings on their journey to the ice planet. 

Quiet conversation broke off into silence as the steady tapping of a grimer stick echoed through the space. Yoda came into view, moving steadily and clear-eyed that belied his old age. Without a word, the padawans lined themselves up in front of the green Jedi Master, their respective masters standing behind, as he folded his hands over the stick and began to speak.

“Ready you all are to travel to Ilum. To collect a kyber crystal is to take the next step in your training. Ready your masters and the Council have deemed you, however test you the caves will. For kyber sees through you it does, sees to your heart and your fears. Not lightly do we take this trip, but safe you will be. Your goodbyes say, and then to the ship we go.” 

Tapping his stick twice, Yoda grunted and began boarding the ship. A few padawans trailed behind him, their goodbyes already said, but Obi-Wan lingered by Qui-Gon. It wasn’t fear, just a sense of something in the boy that had him steeling himself to look to his master one last time. 

“May the Force be with you Obi-Wan.”

Qui-Gon meant it sincerely and it seemed to do the trick. Shoulders straight, blue eyes clear, Obi-Wan walked up the ramp and the guards followed shortly thereafter, ramp rising in their wake.

Qui-Gon’s hair fluttered in the blast of hot wind created by the ship’s exhaust and he stood there, hands folded in his robes, until the ship flickered and disappeared into hyperspace. 

Alone for the first time in months, he exhaled deeply, and began the solitary walk back to his quarters. It was a strange sensation, not having a shadow, and his mind began idly wandering. He could go to the gardens and spend a quiet afternoon in quiet meditation and work, he could practice sparring, or go to the archives and look into that one Holocron of prophecy he had been perusing of late, or…

_Sassé_. Yes, Qui-Gon thought. He knew it was foolhardy, but he wanted to spend some time with a friend who, more than anyone, would get a laugh out of Qui-Gon’s most recent conversation with his padawan. Maybe even ask for more details, a request he would be happy to oblige…

Walking into his quarters, Qui-Gon stiffened. Someone had been on here recently, and relaxed as he recognized Sassé’s signature. Smiling quietly to himself, he tossed his robe onto the back of a chair as a glint caught his eye. Striding over to the table where he and Obi-Wan frequently partook of tea and meals, a clear bottle of glowing blue liquid sat on the marble. His name was on the tag and Qui-Gon picked it up and read:

_Congratulations on being the fastest master in history to have the Talk. I’ll take good care of your Padawan._

_P.S: Save some for when I get back_

Sassé was one of the Temple guards that had gone with Obi-Wan to Ilum. Chuckling quietly to himself and sitting down in the chair, Qui-Gon opened the bottle. 

_The gardens it is then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Qui-Gon


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe-
> 
> And there it was. The faintest glimmer, a beacon shining with a glow only he could see. His instinct told him to take the fork to the right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're heading to Ilum y'all!

This trip was not off to a good start. 

The Padawans piled into the shuttle that would carry them all to Ilum, and took the first available seat they could find. Obi-Wan found himself sandwiched between the two Temple guards there for their protection. He wondered who else was on this trip. He hadn’t recognized any of the Masters at the docking station, and had been too distracted to properly consider the other Padawans. He craned his neck, but struggled to see over the back of his seat.

“Padawans!” Master Yoda called. 

The ship flew up out of the docking station, and through the skies of Coruscant. Though Obi-Wan usually enjoyed looking out the window when flying above the city-planet, his focus was on the aged Jedi Master standing before him. Not to mention he couldn’t see around the guards anyway. 

Master Yoda did not struggle to maintain his balance as the ship cleared the atmosphere and made the jump to hyperspace. Instead, he simply looked each of the young Jedi-to-be in the eye and continued speaking. 

“Unlike anything you have experienced, this trip to Ilum will be,” he said solemnly. “Though you face no external dangers within, test you, the caves will. Test your connection with the Force.”

An uncomfortable hum settled over the passengers. 

“Meditate on this, I advise you,” Yoda said, concluding his little speech. The group remained in their seats for a few moments, unsure if they had Yoda’s permission to rise. However, once the small Master shuffled to the cockpit to speak with the pilot, it was taken as unspoken permission for them to rise and socialize.

Obi-Wan shot out of his seat and once and glanced around at the other Padawans making the trip. He now realized, with a sinking heart, why he hadn’t recognized their Masters before. 

They were all so much  _ older _ than him.

The trip to Ilum was generally undertaken by the time a Padawan turned 11. It was unrealistic to not expect them to need a lightsaber of their own after that. Obi-Wan knew it was rare for a Padawan his age to make the trip, but he’d expected a couple of the others to be Padawans he recognized from their overlap in the creche. 

He watched the older kids stand around and chat, discussing friends they had in common, lessons they shared, and knew that even if he had the nerve to walk up and join them, he would have nothing of value to add. 

He retreated back to his seat and slumped back down. Perhaps he would do as Master Yoda suggested and meditate on the upcoming journey.

One of the Temple guards had chosen to accompany Master Yoda into the cockpit, but the other, the shorter of the two, stayed in her seat. She removed her helmet and shook loose a shock of blue hair. 

Obi-Wan stared for far longer than was polite. He had never seen a Temple guard without their helmet before. He had always imagined them to be older, solemn, perhaps a little frightening. But this one was young. She had cool hair. Most importantly, she was smiling at him and patting the seat beside her.

“You must be Obi-Wan,” she said as he sat down. “I’m Sassé. Your Master Qui-Gon’s told me all about you! He’s told me how bright you are, and how mature. Not surprising to see you on this trip then.”

“How do you know Master Jinn?” Obi-Wan asked. He rarely, if ever, saw the Temple guards socializing outside their ranks. 

“We’re sparring partners,” she replied, with a strange smile that didn’t quite match the ordinariness of her words.

“Sparring partners?” Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. He  _ hated _ sparring. “Why would anyone spar if their Master isn’t making them do it.”

“Now, Padawan, it’s still a skill, and one worth learning! Plus it’s nice sparring with a partner. You can connect with them in a way you can’t with a droid. Has a way of bringing people together.”

Bringing people together? Connecting? Perhaps it was because his conversation with Qui-Gon remained so firmly at the forefront of his mind that he couldn’t help but blurt out:

“So do you and Master Jin do...that thing...that grown-ups do? The one I wasn’t supposed to know about?”

Sassé couldn’t have looked more stunned if Obi-Wan declared his intention to leave the Jedi Order and live his life as an Outer Rim spice runner. Once the shock cleared however, she threw her head back and laughed heartily. 

She was still laughing, tears of mirth rolling down her cheeks when one of the other Padawan’s came to see what all the noise was about. Obi-Wan was relieved someone sane was coming to save him. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Temple guards laugh so hard,” the boy said. “I didn’t even think they could!”

Obi-Wan was struck by the boy’s appearance. Though he couldn’t have been more than 5 years older than him, he had a prominent yellow tattoo across the bridge of his nose, standing in sharp contrast to his dark hair and skin.

“I’m Quinlan,” the boy said when Obi-Wan didn’t respond. “Quinlan Vos.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he squeaked in reply. He hated how young he sounded next to the much more mature Quinlan. 

“What did you say to make her laugh so hard?”

Obi-Wan flushed. It was bad enough that Sassé was still -  _ still _ \- laughing at what he’d said. He didn’t want the older Padawans to all laugh at him too.

He shook his head vigorously, wishing he could just disappear into the floor.

“Aww, come on,” Quinlan said. “I have ways of finding out whether or not you tell me.”

His tone was teasing, but Obi-Wan could sense that he wasn’t joking. 

“Promise you won’t tell?” Obi-Wan said, before hastily adding, “And you won’t laugh?”

“I swear on my kyber crystal.”

“You don’t have one yet,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“Which is how you know I’m serious.”

Obi-Wan didn’t think that explanation  _ entirely _ made sense, but he decided he could trust Quinlan. He quickly caught him up on what he and Sassé had been discussing, making sure to embellish his own personal feelings on the stupidity of sparring lessons. Quinlan’s eyes lit up with amusement, and by the time Obi-Wan got to the question he’d asked the Temple guard, the older Padawan had his lips pressed firmly together as though struggling to keep something from escaping his mouth. If his jaw were clenched any tighter Obi-Wan thought his teeth might crack.

He finally mastered his mirth long enough to choke out:

“Oh. You’re  _ that _ Padawan.”

_ That _ Padawan? Had his little indiscretion been so grave that the entire temple knew what story he’d been spreading?

“Does everybody know?” Obi-Wan asked glumly.

“Well, I don’t know about  _ everyone _ ,” Quinlan said. “But yeah, a bunch of us do. You’re a  _ legend _ .”

Obi-Wan couldn’t have heard that right. Him? A legend?

“None of us could get our Masters to tell us  _ anything _ before the big group class. And you managed it! And then shared what you learned with everyone! You didn’t even care what the council might say!”

Force, the  _ council _ , he hadn’t even thought about them. They hadn’t said anything to him when he went in to see Master Qui-Gon, but would they say something when he came back?

“Legend,” Quinlan finished, clapping Obi-Wan on the shoulder and making his whole body shake.

“Padawans!” Master Yoda called as the shuttle dropped out of hyperspace. “Approaching Ilum, we are. Prepare yourselves.”

He waved his small green hand and opened a storage compartment built into the bulkhead. Inside hung several identical jackets designed for freezing temperatures. Despite the age difference between Obi-Wan and the other Padawans who usually took this trip, he had no problem finding a jacket to accommodate his smaller size - the Jedi had to take different species into account after all.

The shuttle landed smoothly on the surface of Ilum. Obi-Wan peered out the viewport, eager for his first view of the mythical home of the kyber crystal. He wondered if he’d be able to see the old Jedi temple from here. But no such luck. Instead all he saw was...white.

A flat, blinding white. 

The ramp of the shuttle lowered and all concerns over the brightness of Ilum faded. Or rather they froze to death and disappeared.

Ilum was  _ cold _ .

Obi-Wan knew there would be snow on Ilum. Had expected it, and done his best to prepare for it. Master Qui-Gon even kitted him out with a pair of sturdy boots for the occasion. They were heavy and lined in some kind of fur, which seemed excessive at the time. But as he stood waiting for Master Yoda at the foot of the shuttle ramp, he thanked his Master for his foresight and thoughtfulness.

His face hurt. Why in the Force would they bring him somewhere where the wind made his face hurt, much less build a Jedi temple here? Perhaps that was part of the challenge they were meant to face.

Master Yoda led them to the temple doors in silence, the Padawans naturally falling into a single file line behind him. Obi-Wan brought up the rear and trotted to keep up with the longer stride of the older children.

They came to a halt in front of a massive imposing entryway. The arch was covered in intricate symbols Obi-Wan couldn’t read. To his surprise, there was no door - the pathway into the depths of the Temple lay open to them. He glanced down the dark passage, ever mindful of the directions Yoda was giving them.

It seemed so simple and yet it wasn’t. They were to go in the cave, and allow themselves to be open to the Force. Rather than searching their feelings, they were to let their feelings and instincts surface naturally. It was less letting yourself be ruled by your emotions, Yoda explained. It was more the kind of realization that happened naturally when you truly opened yourself to the Force and allowed it to flow through you.

It was, in short, extremely confusing. 

He doubted the older Padawans were as perplexed as he was. None of them betrayed the same air of concern that rolled off of him in waves. This was no doubt something Masters prepared their Padawans for before sending them here. Why hadn’t Master Qui-Gon taught him these things? Or had he, and Obi-Wan had been too focused on the future to pay attention to the present? If he survived this, he vowed to be more mindful of his Master’s teachings.

He caught Quinlan’s eye and trotted towards him through the shin deep snow. 

“Ready?” the older boy asked.

“I’m a little nervous,” Obi-Wan confessed.

“Stick by me, you’ll be fine.”

Obi-Wan smiled, reassured. Unfortunately, the calm and reassurance would not last long. 

The Padawans moved as one through the dark, snow-covered passage, pushing their hoods off in relief at the absence of the harsh winds outside. The atmosphere was jovial, abuzz with excitement, until they reached the first fork in the road. 

At once, they fell silent, doing their all to slip into meditative states, and to allow the Force to dictate their next moves. Obi-Wan did not expect it to work. He expected to stand in the dark and cold, alone while the others went off to find their crystals, waiting for a sign that never cam

He pushed down his discouragement when he heard the first couple of Padawans depart. He blocked out all other sounds around him, trying to focus only on the feeling of his breath rising and falling in his chest. He couldn’t even feel the stinging cold any longer.

_ Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe- _

And there it was. The faintest glimmer, a beacon shining with a glow only he could see. His instinct told him to take the fork to the right. 

He opened his eyes, and saw the only Padawan remaining was Quinlan Vos.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“Right fork,” Obi-Wan said, flushed with joy at his own success, ever careful not to let it slip into pride.

“I’m to the left,” Quinlan said, smiling. “Guess I’ll see you outside then?”

He rushed down the winding corridor, pausing to consult the glow he felt within whenever he reached a new divide in the path. The last twist carried him towards the sound of voices. He emerged in a large cavern, the walls and ceiling coated in ice. It looked like the inside of the mouth of some terrifying beast. Stalagmites and stalactites dotted the space, glinting menacingly. 

The few Padawans in the cavern were engaged in climbing the small rock fixtures, trying to access pieces of the ice that looked thoroughly unremarkable to Obi-Wan. That is until he realized half of what he saw wasn’t ice at all - it was kyber.

So his crystal must be somewhere in this room. His heart began to race and he cast his eyes about, hoping the glow he saw in his mind’s eye would be made real at any moment.

_ Obi-Wan _ .

“Huh?” he said, spinning around. Someone had called his name. But no one was looking at him. He brushed it aside.

He sat on a stone on which no snow had settled and crossed his legs. Despite his earlier success, he still found it easier to meditate if he was sitting. 

He focused on his breathing once again, oblivious to the chatter of the other Padawans. Breathe in...breathe out...breathe-

_ Obi-Wan _ .

It was Master Qui-Gon calling to him. He didn’t react as he had before. He stayed with whatever the Force was trying to tell him. Perhaps Qui-Gon was trying to offer him support from Coruscant?

He could almost see him now. The image was hazy, but he could see Master Qui-Gon looking up at him. Up? But he’s so tall, why would he be looking  _ up _ ? 

Because he was on the ground. Obi-Wan could see himself cradling his Master’s head. Something was wrong. He was hurt. Qui-Gon’s hand dropped. He was dead.

He tried to shake himself out of his vision but something had a hold of him and wouldn’t let him go. He felt like a scream was trying to work its way out of his chest, but it was frozen in place.

_ My dear Obi-Wan. _

He heard a woman now, her voice warm and lovely. As soon as he became aware of her face and felt her presence, she was snatched away from him. 

The images continued to swirl. A young man he called “brother” swinging a lightsaber at him with lethal force. Another woman in pain, crying for his help, while he stood by unable to do anything for her. 

Finally he stood alone on what looked like a starship. It was darker than those he’d seen. Menacing. He held a lightsaber in his hands, it’s blade a bright and bold blue. He glanced up at the sound of boots striding towards him, and was unprepared for what he saw.

A tall man dressed all in black. His dark, expressionless, glass eyes bored into Obi-Wan’s. His modulated breath sounded unnatural and terrifying. He was unsure if it was truly a man, or a machine. But he  _ knew _ him. Somehow he knew this terrifying apparition. 

A red lightsaber blade materialized in the monster’s hand. He brought it swinging forward.

“NOOOOO,” Obi-Wan howled, swinging his lightsaber forward. It never made contact. 

Instead, a sharp pain radiated up his right arm. He had fallen off the stone and was kneeling on the cave floor. He faced one of the walls of ice and had apparently tried to punch through it. 

The skin of his knuckles was scraped and bleeding. Through the crack he’d made in the ice, he saw something strange - a blue glow, the very same colour as the lightsaber he’d held in his vision.

He dug his small fingers into the crevice and worked the crystal free. He dropped it into his palm and considered it carefully. He’d done it. He’d found his kyber crystal.

He held it aloft, eager to show the other Padawans. But he was all alone in the cavern. How could that be? There had been several others in here with him only moments ago. How was it they’d all found their crystals so quickly. 

“Obi-Wan!” someone called. He tensed, worried he was about to slip into another vision. 

But no, this voice echoed throughout the cave. This was real. 

“Obi-Wan!” Quinlan Vos called. “Are you down here?”

“Over here!” he squeaked, surprised at how hoarse he sounded. His throat was as raw as if he’d been shouting and crying for hours.

He got shakily to his feet, and his knees gave way almost immediately. Quinlan rushed forward and helped him up, supporting him under his arms so they could walk. Quinlan may have been bigger than him, but he doubted he could carry him.

“Quinlan,” he said weakly. “I did it. I found my crystal.”

“That’s awesome, Obi-Wan.” His words were cheerful, but his voice was thick with concern.

“Where is everyone?” Obi-Wan glanced around, half expecting to see the other Padawans poke their heads out. “How did they find their crystals so fast?”

“Uh...it wasn’t fast Obi-Wan. It’s been hours. We were all worried when you didn’t come back, but Master Yoda said you’d find your way out.”

“So why are you here?”

“I don’t listen well. My master says it’s my biggest weakness.”

They emerged through the archway, and were greeted by the group of Padawans, all of whom were looking at Obi-Wan with a mixture of awe and horror. The sudden silence that fell upon them all was proof that they’d been talking about him moments before he’d arrived. 

Sassé took over for Quinlan, lifting Obi-Wan into her arms and carrying him back to the ship. He didn’t care that it made him look like a baby. He didn’t care that the others had been talking about him. He was far too haunted by what he’d seen in the cave, and the shock of events was settling over him. He would have to ask Master Qui-Gon about it when they got back to Coruscant. 

He strapped himself into his seat, sandwiched between Sassé and Quinlan, who seemed to feel a kind of responsibility towards him. The moment the shuttle hit hyperspace, he slumped to the side and fell asleep, knowing nothing else until they reached Coruscant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor baby boy :'(


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy’s gaze flickered to him briefly, then away, focusing on something beyond Qui-Gon’s shoulder, but it was enough. Qui-Gon caught the barest glimpse of something so haunting, that it chilled him to the bone.

Qui-Gon’s comm beeped and he looked down, read the message, and smiled. Obi-Wan was back, and he had his kyber. A swell of pride blossomed in the older Jedi’s chest: he was right about the boy, he was truly well on his way to becoming one of the most gifted Jedi of this age. 

Striding down to where he had bid goodbye, the doors slid open to the dock and Qui-Gon’s cheerful mood vanished as all the masters turned to look at him. They didn’t seem angry, and Qui-Gon sensed no displeasure, but a wave of concern was washing over him and his heart, against his training, dropped to his stomach.

“Obi-Wan?” he asked quietly.

“Over here.”

Qui-Gon looked past the masters and saw Sassé, helmeted once more, standing next to Obi-Wan. Master Yoda stood on the opposite side of his padawan and the picture of the Guard, the boy, and the smaller Jedi Master would have been hilarious in other circumstances, but the way Sassé was standing almost protectively over the boy, any humor was lost. Another padawan, Quinlan Vos, Qui-Gon thought, stood a few meters away with his own master, dark eyes trained on the younger boy. Obi-Wan was still huddled deep in his winter coat and seemed completely absent to the fact that he was back on Coruscant and was starting to sweat. 

Holding back every part of him that wanted to break into a sprint, Qui-Gon strode toward the trio and followed Master Yoda a few steps away, out of earshot of Obi-Wan, but knew Sassé would be able to hear every word with her helmet’s range. 

“Master Yoda, what happened? Is Obi-Wan alright?”

“Hmmm…” Yoda shook his head, eyes closed as he continued. “Had a vision, young Kenobi had. Lost himself in the caves for hours. Worried, we all were. Found him, Padawan Vos did and brought him out.”

“But aren’t padawans supposed to find their own way out of the caves?”

“Not a requirement it is, but encouraged. Young Kenobi, touched by the dark side today he was. Noticed him it has, and much fear I sense in him.”

Yoda rapped his stick against Qui-Gon’s shins and Qui-Gon bit back a wince as the wood struck superficial nerves. 

“To your padawan speak, see what he saw, and this mystery unraveled may be.”

With a grunt, Yoda began the trek back into the Temple and Qui-Gon watched him go for a moment, then turned and strode back to where Sassé and Obi-Wan still stood. 

The dock was now deserted, the three of them the only living beings out, and Qui-Gon moved closer to Sassé than would have normally been deemed appropriate and whispered quietly, “How is he? Truly.”

“He is shaken, that much I can sense.” Sassé’s normally flippant tone was dark, and that more than Yoda’s words, made Qui-Gon’s stomach roil unpleasantly. 

“He saw something in that cave Qui-Gon, something terrible. He hasn’t said a word since he came out...we’ve all had visions Qui-Gon, of things seen and unseen, things yet to come or never be, but whatever this was, it was _certain_ and that is what I think frightens him most of all.” 

Sassé’s white-gloved hand reached up to gently stroke his face, thumb tracing his cheekbone as she did. Obi-Wan, face still buried in the hood of his coat and mind unfocused, didn’t see a thing. 

“Take care of him for me will you? I know you see how special he is, but I sense that his very existence is the fulcrum by which we all hang. Choose your words carefully love, the fate of the galaxy may depend on it.”

 _Well that’s no pressure at all_ , Qui-Gon thought. His hand caught Sassé’s and briefly pressed his lips to her palm, as if to reassure the faceless Guard with an unspoken acquiescence, and turned away, kneeling down in front of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Obi-Wan?” 

The boy’s gaze flickered to him briefly, then away, focusing on something beyond Qui-Gon’s shoulder, but it was enough. Qui-Gon caught the barest glimpse of something so haunting, that it chilled him to the bone. 

_Fear. Anger. Hate. Suffering._ Darkness had touched young Kenobi and would follow him for the rest of his life. Qui-Gon knew what it was like, to feel and experience every one of them as his own, but what had worked for him would not work for his padawan and Qui-Gon Jinn knew with every molecule in his body, that this was why he had been chosen as Obi-Wan Kenobi’s master. 

He took the boy’s hand silently, and Obi-Wan’s fingers curled in his larger grip, and together they made the long, quiet walk back to their quarters. Entering the room, Qui-Gon merely began shedding Obi-Wan of his stifling layers, until the boy was back in his simple Jedi tunic, trousers, and boots. Through it all, Obi-Wan still didn’t speak and Qui-Gon simply began to make tea, as if it were a usual evening with the two of them. The quiet clinking of cups filled the silence and the sound seemed to bring Obi-Wan back to himself, if only a little bit. 

“Master?”

Qui-Gon turned, two cups in hand, and smiled gently.

“Welcome home, Obi-Wan.”

He walked over and extended the cup. Obi-Wan took it with one hand, the other still clenched tightly in a fist. 

Settling down on the ground in front of his still-standing apprentice, Qui-Gon took a sip of tea, allowed the warm liquid to fill his body, and said, “Is that your kyber?”

Obi-Wan startled, as if forgetting what he held, and slowly extended his hand, fingers unfurling like a moon flower.

The crystal was small, as all of them were, and it glowed a faint, iridescent blue against Obi-Wan’s pale hand. Qui-Gon broke into a smile.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I wanted it to be green like yours.”

It was the first sentence he’d uttered since Ilum and his voice was hoarse, as if he had been shouting, and Qui-Gon waited for Obi-Wan to take a sip of his tea, hand still balancing the precious crystal in the other. 

“You know that’s not how it works Obi-Wan, we don’t get to-”

“Well it should work that way!”

The outburst took Qui-Gon aback and he watched as Obi-Wan’s face twisted, the face of one trying to hold back tears...of anger or sadness? Qui-Gon didn’t know, but rather allowed himself to ride the wave of his padawan’s roiling emotions.

“It’s not fair. The crystal came on accident, after-”

He took a shuddering breath and Qui-Gon bit his tongue, silently willing the boy to go on.

“After I saw the man...the woman...the shadow…”

“Were they the same ones as in your other dreams?” Qui-Gon asked quietly.

“No...they were different...but I felt as if I had met them before. They all died master, they all were so angry and sad...and it was all my fault.”

Taking a deep breath and choosing his words as carefully as he ever had in his life, Qui-Gon said, “Visions can sometimes be flawed, and in a place like Ilum, where the Force is amplified a thousandfold above anything we experience here, the line between reality and between worlds can-”

“But you were dead!”

The words ripped out of the boy like they had been torn from his throat and Qui-Gon stilled. 

Obi-Wan had clapped his hands over his mouth, as if he was just as surprised as his master at the horror that he had spoken into the space between them. His eyes, normally so clear, were beginning to well with tears, and he blinked furiously to stave off gravity’s pull.

 _So that’s what it is. Sometimes I forget how young he truly is._ Obi-Wan was always so solemn, so grown up compared to the other younglings in his creche which is why Qui-Gon had told him about what happened on their first mission, why he deemed the boy ready for Ilum, and why now, as he stared at what would become his legacy, he was making a child face their worst nightmares.

Not for the first time did Qui-Gon experience a pang of unease. Yes, the path of the Jedi was a hard one to walk, full of many perils and responsibilities, but asking children to treat their emotions as unworthy or unimportant in the larger scheme of things didn’t always translate well into adulthood and Qui-Gon wondered if this stunting would be the death of them all. 

Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t fear death, he had learned through many trials to embrace letting go and entering into the unknown with the knowledge that one day he would become one with the Force. But his padawan was still young, and death seemed for him to be the finality of everything. So Qui-Gon decided on a different approach. Instead of seating himself across from Obi-Wan like they had done so many times before, he sat beside the boy, close enough that they were touching. Obi-Wan’s head barely made it midway up Qui-Gon’s bicep, but with his new proximity, could feel the boy still shuddering slightly at his confession. 

The tears had never fallen, but Obi-Wan’s face was wan and pale as he looked confusedly up at his master. Qui-Gon smiled down at him and infused all of the compassion and care he had for his young charge into the gesture. 

“Instead of meditating on this Obi-Wan, I want you to close your eyes.”

He obeyed immediately, hands falling into his lap and twisting together. Before he could think, Qui-Gon reached out and stilled them, cupping them between his own. They easily engulfed the boy’s, a Sarlacc swallowing a bantha, and Obi-Wan stiffened. Qui-Gon knew he was expecting a reprimand, but Qui-Gon merely continued speaking, his voice soothing and low as if talking to a particularly skittish fathier.

“Tell me Obi-Wan, what do you feel? Physically I mean, not with your feelings or emotions.”

“Cold. Warmth,” he wriggled his hands engulfed by Qui-Gon’s. “Hard. Soft. Rough. Smooth…” As he continued naming, Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan’s shoulders dropped, his breathing slowed, and the hands he currently held stilled, resting palms up against his own.

When there was a pause in the list, Qui-Gon continued quietly, “Now I want you to reach out...not just to me, but everywhere. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Qui-Gon expected Obi-Wan to remove his hands from his grip, but to his surprise, he turned them so his palms were against Qui-Gon’s and his fingers curled slightly against the skin. It was quiet for the span of a few heartbeats, until Obi-Wan whispered, “I’m ready.”

“Tell me what you feel.”

“Life. Death. Happiness. Sadness. Joy. Pain.”

“And where is all of it coming from?”

The boy’s brows furrowed in confusion at the question, but Qui-Gon was proud to feel that he never broke concentration as Obi-Wan said hesitantly, “Everywhere...and nowhere. It’s like it’s a giant circle that has no beginning and no end, I can’t see how everything connects-”

“-because it is all connected,” Qui-Gon finished just as quietly.

“Obi-Wan.” 

His padawan’s eyes opened slowly, as if waking from a dream and Qui-Gon saw a new steadiness to them that was not there before they had shut. 

“The reason you feel all of it as one circle is because it is. Life, death, decay, growth, it is all part of the living Force and our connection to it allows us to see these cycles. We are a part of it in ways that many people can never understand, but the path of the Jedi is for us to show that to others in our everyday actions, big or small. The visions you had in the cave, they are a part of this circle now, and whether or not they come to pass, it does no good to dwell on them, it is as fruitless as you trying to find the beginning and end of that circle. That is not to say to be mindful, circles can grow or shrink and the ripple effects can move things into motion we can never predict, nor should we try to. The lesson here Obi-Wan, is not to let go of what you are afraid to lose, but embrace it: it is just as much apart of the living Force as you are, but to dwell is to try and change the shape of the circle or fit it in a box in which it does not belong. Power, control, these are the paths to darkness and the road is easy to find but harder still to get off. You are one with the living Force my young Padawan, learn to listen to it and you will always find your way back to the light.”

Qui-Gon inhaled deeply. He felt as if he had just swam many depths underwater without his rebreather and was just now resurfacing to the world where gravity once again held sway. Obi-Wan looked the same, eyes wide and razor-focused on his master, although Qui-Gon could see the slight sway in his body as exhaustion and hunger took hold. 

Gently disentangling his hands from Obi-Wan’s, Qui-Gon unfolded himself from his seated position and stood, towering over his diminutive Padawan. 

Obi-Wan looked up, then back down at his hands, as if trying to ascertain whether or not the last few minutes had all been a dream, but a low rumble interrupted his musings and his cerulean gaze snapped up to where Qui-Gon had put a hand over his own stomach. 

A wry grin breaking across his features, Qui-Gon said, “When I came back from Ilum, my master told me that instead of celebrating, I should continue my studies. It was not a cruel thing to say, but he understood that me having my kyber meant that my responsibilities as a Jedi were only just beginning. I think it’s safe to say for us that food should come before anything else, what do you think Obi-Wan?” 

The boy lept up as Qui-Gon’s long strides took him to the door. Waving it open, Qui-Gon looked over his shoulder to his pupil with a grin that made him feel years younger, “And I know just the place.”

***

It wasn’t illegal per se, but Qui-Gon definitely knew that taking his padawan out to dinner and subsequently not asking, was just the sort of thing that rankled the Council: in short, it was the best idea he’d ever had.

“Where are we going master?” Obi-Wan’s legs dangled from the passenger side of the speeder Qui-Gon had ‘borrowed’ from the Temple’s relatively small selection and allowed his gaze to flicker over to his pupil.

“To the best diner in the city, although he’ll never admit to it.”

“He?”

Qui-Gon’s lips twitched. The dark cloud that had hung between master and apprentice had lifted slightly, although Qui-Gon thought he saw Obi-Wan’s eyes go distant at times as he recalled his visions. Qui-Gon knew it would do either of them any good to continue to bring up the subject, but he hoped that his conversation with Obi-Wan had at least quieted the young Jedi's fears. For his part, Qui-Gon was planning on doing his own private meditation to discern if there was any deeper meaning to them and what they may hold in regards to Obi-Wan's future.

Angling the speeder down through Coruscant’s perilous air traffic, Qui-Gon settled the vehicle down near a meter and flipped a few credits to the droid manning the area.

“This way.”

Qui-Gon’s strides ate up the concrete beneath his boots and he heard Obi-Wan’s faster tempo as he attempted to stay astride his master. The area they were in was on one of the lower levels of the city-planet. It was far enough down to warrant a purpose to a Jedi making a visit, but not too far as to pose a serious threat to the Jedi in question. If one truly wished for trouble, Level 1313 was where it could be found and the duo was safely ensconced far above such notoriety; not that Qui-Gon would have let Obi-Wan anywhere near it...yet.

A few sharp turns later had them both standing outside of a fairly nondescript building that gleamed reflectively in the city’s sunlight. Through the street-grimed windows, Qui-Gon could see the silhouettes of bodies within and feel the adrenaline and joy that came from a job well-done just below the surface that was stemming from one individual in particular... 

“Hello Dex.”

“Qui-Gon Jinn!”

A male besalisk’s face appeared above the service window of the diner (for that’s what the building was) and his face seemed to nearly split in two at the grin he gave the older Jedi. 

“Take a seat my friend, take a seat, I’ll be right with ya!”

Looking down, Qui-Gon saw that Obi-Wan’s eyes were as round as Weequay disc-ships and placed a hand on his shoulder. The boy jumped, so enthralled (and more than likely overwhelmed) by the sights and sounds of the diner, but followed Qui-Gon’s gentle prodding to an empty booth near the back. Patrons and employees alike gave the pair questioning looks, but none dared stop them as Qui-Gon settled into the booth, knees nearly brushing the bottom of the plastic table. Across from him, Obi-Wan did a few awkward hops to settle himself firmly in the middle of the bench. 

“Master...where exactly are we and how does that man know you?”

The words were spoken carefully, and Qui-Gon smiled internally at his padawan’s already-promising diplomatic skills. Leaning forward, Qui-Gon folded his hands on the table in front of him and said, “We are at Dex’s Diner my young apprentice, and Dex is-”

“Right here!” The besalisk moved silently for one of his species and as he spoke, slid into the booth next to Obi-Wan. The smaller human was nearly pressed up against the glass of the diner and Qui-Gon had to stifle a laugh as Obi-Wan wriggled himself into a new position that both gave him space and allowed him to face his booth companion more fully.

Smiling at the alien, Qui-Gon said, “It’s been too long my friend.”

“No fault of mine now is it? With you going all respectable and landing yourself a padawan I hear.” 

Dex turned to Obi-Wan and extended one of his four large hands. 

“Dexter Jettster, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The boy reached out and took the proffered hand with a mix of befuddlement and politeness that had Qui-Gon stifling a laugh as his padawan’s hand was all but swallowed by Dex’s. 

“A pleasure my boy a pleasure! Did your master ever tell you how we met?”

“I don’t think that’s-”

“He had found himself in a bit of trouble with the locals, see.” Dex barreled on, completely ignoring the older Jedi’s noises of protestation, and, despite himself, Obi-Wan leaned in, eyes riveted on the alien.

"He had accidentally offended the chief of the village and found himself on the wrong end of the negotiation table. He's lucky I was there and heard the caterwauling, otherwise nothing would be left of your master today save for a few stands of his hair...apparently they were fascinated by it."

Qui-Gon fought the flush that threatened to erupt over his features, but said smoothly, "Dex is one of the most well-traveled individuals I've ever met. He knows people, places and things that others could never imagine, and thankfully stooped to help a newly-minted Jedi Knight out on his way home. And it wasn't _caterwauling_ , rather, loud...negotiations."

Dex boomed out a laugh that had the entire table jerk toward Qui-Gon and nearly slam into his torso, but a small push with Force stopped Qui-Gon Jinn from receiving any more insult to injury outside of the verbal.

Once Dex's mirth had subsided, he looked the two Jedi up and down. "So what can I get for you fellas today? The usual, Master Jedi?"

"Today calls for more...special offerings I think Dex. Obi-Wan has just received his kyber crystal and has a fondness for sweets." Qui-Gon's lips twitched as his Padawan squirmed, discomfort and interest waging war on his round face.

"I know just the thing! I'll be right with ya!" 

Just as quickly as he appeared, Dex vanished into the diner's kitchen's, leaving the two Jedi ruffled as if a particularly strong gust of wind had run across them, in more ways than one.

"Did Dex really save your life Master?"

Qui-Gon couldn't help but laugh. "He did and I am forever in his debt for it. I was young and naive, thinking that I could handle my first mission alone. Always remember Padawan, to never stop learning and to always have a baby Rishi eel tucked away for when you need it most."

Obi-Wan's face scrunched with confusion at that last bit, but quickly reverted back to excitement as Dex returned, two arms holding plates, while another held a coffee mug.

"In celebration of the newest member of the Order, I give you my Salliche chocolate cake. They're known for their cacao production and you won't find it anywhere on this metal and steel monstrosity of a planet."

Sliding the plates in front of them, Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan's eyes were going to pop out of his head as he beheld the thick slab of cake. Throwing a questioning look to his master, Qui-Gon merely smiled and nodded and the boy attacked it like a nexu at its prey.

Dex laughed at the blissful expression that crossed Obi-Wan's face as he took his first bite and asked, "Does it meet your expectations little Jedi?"

Obi-Wan could only nod, mouth full, and resumed his attack. 

Dex slid a cup of coffee alongside Qui-Gon's much smaller piece, and he caught a whiff of Chandrilian brandy as the steam wafted up underneath his nose.

Smiling up at his old friend, Qui-Gon took a sip and closed his eyes. Pleasure or indulgence was not encouraged among the Order, but Qui-Gon knew the usefulness of moderation to stem off excess or dangerous over-attachment and obsession with the forbidden, and this was one indulgence that he thoroughly enjoyed as the smooth alcohol mixed with the bitter coffee warmed his throat.

Setting the mug down and taking a bite of cake, Qui-Gon looked down at the plate, then back up accusingly at Dex, amusement lacing his tone, "You've been holding out on me with this one. The taste is exquisite."

Leaning in so Obi-Wan, still very much entrenched in his cake, wouldn't overhear, Dex said, laughter rumbling in his chest, "But not as exquisite as one guard I hear. Tell Sassé I said hello."

Qui-Gon choked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First angst, then cake. That's how we roll here.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His meditation with Qui-Gon stirred something in him, a familiar warm feeling from his life before the Temple. When the world became too much, his papa used to sit him down in a similar fashion and hold his little hands until his breathing returned to normal, and he began once again to see the world for what it was instead of what he imagined it to be. 

In his few moments of wakefulness on the trip back to Coruscant, Obi-Wan had been struck by the fear of what Master Qui-Gon would say when he heard what had happened. For all that his master had taught him how to meditate and connect with the Force in a way that would keep his nightmares at bay, it was obvious that it hadn’t worked.

Obi-Wan had failed him.

He would be disappointed, if the general mood on the dock was any indication. He had no idea how long ago they’d landed. He wasn’t even entirely sure how he’d gotten off the ship. His mind was swimming with the terrible things he’d seen in the temple, mingled with the awful poison that was the fear he’d disappointed Master Qui-Gon somehow. 

His visions had left him open and vulnerable to everything that surrounded him. He felt the emotions of others as though they were his own. If it had been bad on the transport, it was worse here on the dock. The air swam with confusion and pity so thick it was suffocating him. Underneath it all was something else, something that ran through every Jedi and Padawan there: fear. They  _ feared _ him. The knowledge crushed him. If they didn’t throw him out of the Order, he might take it upon himself to leave. To return home to his family, if they even still remembered him, and never speak of this ordeal again. If he left, then that would stop all these horrible things from happening. The monsters would never find him, and Master Qui-Gon would never-

_ He was here _ .

He knew his Master had arrived long before he actually saw him. His senses had detected Qui-Gon in the Force. They were far more attuned to each other than to any other present. Master Qui-Gon’s concern for his Padawn just managed to break through the haze clouding Obi-Wan’s mind, the faintest breeze of cool air on a hot, muggy day. 

He spoke to Sassé but Obi-Wan barely registered what they were saying. He was dimly aware of Master Qui-Gon taking his hand and leading him away. Back in their quarters, as Qui-Gon calmed Obi-Wan through his emotional outburst and guided him through a meditation, he began to come back to himself. 

It had been like this before he arrived at the Temple too. There had been times he’d felt the world around him so keenly, he hadn’t been able to cope with it. That, he later learned, was his sensitivity to the Force, manifesting within him. 

It was this same sensitivity to the world around him that shaped his character in those first few years before being brought to Coruscant. He was so aware of a single person’s ability to affect the space around them that he began to question everything he did, every word he spoke. In an attempt to gauge the moods of others, to press the issue rather than let it unfold naturally, he often wound up making assumptions and creating entire scenarios and conflicts in his head with no basis in reality. 

Arriving at the Temple had mostly cured him of this habit, as he’d learned to centre himself, to not let his emotions and feelings dictate his thoughts quite as much as they did. But there were still moments of vulnerability, moments where his head and heart worked together to get the better of him. 

His meditation with Qui-Gon stirred something in him, a familiar warm feeling from his life before the Temple. When the world became too much, his papa used to sit him down in a similar fashion and hold his little hands until his breathing returned to normal, and he began once again to see the world for what it was instead of what he imagined it to be. 

The gentle peace that they had reached was immediately shattered the moment Master Qui-Gon proposed a trip out into the city to celebrate the momentous milestone that was Obi-Wan’s kyber crystal. Excitement flared to life within him, burning away the last vines of Darkness that still had a hold on him. He raced to his room, carefully tucked his kyber crystal under his pillow, then ran just as quickly to meet his Master.

Whatever excitement he felt at the mere prospect of a trip out into Coruscant felt small and insignificant once he found himself tucked into the corner of a booth at a place called Dex’s Diner, armed with the largest piece of chocolate cake he’d ever seen in his life, a fork, and the knowledge that he wasn’t expected to share it with anyone. 

“What’s the verdict, Obi-Wan?”, Master Qui-Gon asked with a bemused look on his face.

Obi-Wan was engaged in the highly precise process of running his finger through the chocolate that had stuck to the plate and licking it off, since at his age he knew better than to pick the plate up and lick it directly. 

“ ‘s gud,” he mumbled, his sticky finger delivering the last bit of cake to his waiting taste buds.

Dex had returned to the kitchen earlier, after giving Obi-Wan a good-natured pat on the head. Master Qui-Gon swept out of his seat and into the one recently vacated by the besalisk . He produced a napkin out of seemingly nowhere and dipped the corner into the cup of water Dex had left for Obi-Wan that went completely ignored in his chocolate-fuelled frenzy. He handed the cloth to Obi-Wan and gestured in the general area of his mouth. 

He rubbed it hastily over his mouth, secretly relieved that Master Qui-Gon hadn’t done it for him. Examining the napkin, he was surprised to see just how much chocolate he’d wasted by not eating more carefully. He considered licking it directly off the cloth, and wondered what Master Qui-Gon’s face would look like if he tried.

Might as well.

He darted his eyes to the side to make sure his Master was still looking at him. He poked the tip of his tongue out and scooped up a glob of sweetness from the napkin. As expected, it did not go unnoticed.

“Obi-Wan!”, Master Qui-Gon admonished. He both looked and sounded surprised.

Obi-Wan burst into a peal of laughter and repeated the gesture, deeply amused by Qui-Gon’s reaction. The older man reached over and plucked the soiled napkin out of the little boy’s hands before he could flout the conventions of good table manners any further. 

For some reason, this was even funnier to Obi-Wan than the initial look of surprise he’d been given and he laughed even harder. Tears of mirth rolled down his round cheeks completely unchecked and with no end in sight.

Through his delight, Obi-Wan felt a little strange. His stomach was churning and every cell in his body hummed with electricity. He was seized with a desire to hop up onto the table and leap around the diner from fixture to fixture, screaming at the top of his lungs. He wasn’t sure where this sudden desire had come from, but Qui-Gon seemed to sense things were about to take a turn, and his eyes widened in alarm.

He seized Obi-Wan’s hand and led him out of the diner, calling to Dex as he went. The whole way back to the speeder, Obi-Wan continued to giggle, the jittery sound escaping from his throat almost against his will. He was buckled into his seat, and peered out at the Coruscant skyline while Qui-Gon fastened himself in and guided them into the sky. 

Obi-Wan continued to study his surroundings as they joined the early evening rush. Rows of transports flew above and below them, all in neat rows. Peeking down into the lower levels of the city, Obi-Wan idly wondered how far down he could actually see. He leaned out a little further, half lifting himself out of his seat. The abyss that led to the surface of Coruscant was so deep, it extended into blackness long before the structures reached their end. He leaned out a little further, trying to see better. If only he could-

“Be careful, Obi-Wan!” came Qui-Gon’s sharp reprimand. He dropped back into his seat, momentarily chastened. He threw a sidelong look at his Master, who looked less angry and more worried than he’d sounded.

“If our speeder has to make a sudden move, you might tumble out into the sky. Though I’ve sworn to watch out for you as your Master, were that to happen not even the best pilot in the galaxy would be able to catch you.”

“Sorry Master,” Obi-Wan said quietly, in defiance of the buzzing he still felt in his veins. 

They had ascended to the level of the Jedi Temple. The sky was more visible from up here. The sun was setting, tinting everything orange. It had been the longest day of his life, yet he wasn’t tired in the least. Perhaps he could convince Master Qui-Gon to let him spar with one of the training droids reserved for older Padawans. He needed to do something physical. He needed to  _ move. _ He could just make out the spires of the Jedi Temple but to his surprise Qui-Gon did not steer them in the direction of the large docking bay.

“Master, where are we going? The Temple is that way.” Obi-Wan said, astounded that a Jedi knight needed directions from a mere Padawan.

“We aren’t returning to the Temple just yet,” his Master said vaguely. 

He steered them instead towards one of the few nearby leisure areas meant for district residents. He parked their speeder among a cluster of others much like their own, and gestured for Obi-Wan to let himself out. 

By virtue of being on Coruscant, Obi-Wan knew they must be on top of a building - or series of buildings - but if he hadn’t known better he could have sworn they were on another world entirely. Qui-Gon led him away from the speeders and along a tree-lined path. It was so much quieter here, he hardly heard the crushing sound of Coruscant traffic anymore. Such silence was usually only sought out for meditative purposes. Perhaps Qui-Gon meant for them to meditate again as a way to calm down Obi-Wan’s frantic energy before returning to the temple. He must be embarrassed to be seen with such a poorly behaved Padawan. That joke with the napkin had been silly, he shouldn’t have-

A smell wafted past Obi-Wan’s nose, stronger than the clean scent of the trees. It smelled like...food? He could smell cooking oil and something else that made his mouth water, in spite of how full his stomach felt. A shriek pierced the air startling him. His training kicked in, Jedi reflexes making him jump back suddenly like a spooked loth-cat. But Master Qui-Gon didn’t look concerned at all. His eyes had crinkled in amusement. 

“Come along, Obi-Wan.” 

He lay a broad hand on tiny shoulders and pushed him gently to walk in front. They rounded a corner into a clearing, and the source of the noise became apparent at once. Several children were scattered, each of them running around, climbing, jumping, swinging or hanging from a large bright climbing frame.

A playground? Qui-Gon had brought him to a playground. He crouched down until his eyes were level with Obi-Wan’s.

“I sense your sugar-induced exuberance might be a bit much to take you back to the Temple just now. Go, run, burn off the energy, and we’ll go back when you’re ready.”

Obi-Wan remained frozen in place. Had his master brought him here solely to play? This wasn’t some kind of test? His eyes darted to the other children. Were they in on this? 

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon intoned solemnly. “If you are not on that climbing frame in the next 30 seconds, I promise I shall attempt to climb it myself, embarrassing the both of us.”

Obi-Wan was off like a shot.

The other children, 4 in total, were all residents of the area and roughly the same age as Obi Wan. Their little group was made up of a pair of Rodian siblings, and a pair of human siblings who lived nearby and went to school together. They were mildly curious when Obi-Wan joined them, a little boy none of them had ever seen before and dressed strangely. 

“Who are you?” one of the Rodians, a girl named Koobis asked after they'd introduced themselves.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said, uncertainly, too apprehensive to get any closer to the climbing frame they clung to like sentries defending their post.

“Where do you go to school?” she asked. It was clear she was the leader of their little band.

“I..uh...I don’t. That is, I’m from the Jedi Temple.”

He pointed vaguely in the direction of the Temple, as though to illustrate his point. Four mouths popped open in surprise.

“A Jedi?” said the youngest human, a small boy named Myn. “Can I see your laser sword?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What kind of Jedi are you?”

“I’m not really. I’m a Padawan. An apprentice,” he supplied after their confused looks. He pointed again, this time towards Qui-Gon.  “That’s my Master over there.”

“Not your dad? You kinda look alike,” the human girl, Wini, observed.

“No. Not my dad.” Obi-Wan shot a quick look back at Qui-Gon, worried he would make good on his threat to actually climb the playground structure. But he was chatting to the parents of Obi-Wan’s interrogators, oblivious to his Padawan’s struggles.

“Does  _ he _ have a laser sword?” the youngest boy persisted. “Does he let you use it?”

“No.” This was going badly.

“Well what  _ can _ you do?” the younger Rodian, Atoc, asked.

What could he do? His physical agility was nothing special back at the Temple, where every student was gifted with the same Force-enhanced gymnastic prowess. But here among these children? It was worth a try.

Obi-Wan backed up a few paces, and held the top platform of the climbing frame in his sights. He broke into a sprint, stopping just short of the first set of bars. He leapt in the air and executed a rather elegant flip landing squarely on the platform. The four children were absolutely speechless. That is, until their shock wore off. 

“Woah, I wanna do that!”

“How did you- How…”

“I wanna be a patowan!”

Having purchased admission to their little club for the low price of a single mid-air flip, Obi-Wan was welcomed into the fold and invited to join their game. The rules didn’t make much sense, and they spent more time screaming and laughing than actually enforcing them, but he found he didn’t mind much. The five of them remained oblivious to the setting sun until it became too dark to see the frame properly. 

The children were beckoned by their parents, and they bid Obi-Wan a hasty farewell as they leapt to the ground. Obi-Wan followed suit, reluctantly admitting to himself that he was getting tired - and hungry, now that he thought of it. He hadn’t had anything to eat all day except the cake.

Qui-Gon met him at the base of the structure, his hands full with two small paper parcels. He handed one to Obi-Wan. It was hot and smelled like the delicious aroma that had greeted them when they’d arrived at this small slice of paradise.

They took their food back to the speeder and sat watching the skyline as they ate. Qui-Gon asked Obi-Wan the occasional question about the children he’d met and the game they’d been playing. Obi-Wan told his master everything through mouthfuls of the delicious fried wrap Qui-Gon had given him. He’d spoken so animatedly that as soon as he was faced with a quiet moment - when Qui-Gon was discarding their trash - his eyelids began to droop. They were barely in the air before Obi-Wan gave up on his battle with sleep and allowed himself to be carried away.

He didn’t have nightmares, which was a small mercy. Instead he remained marginally aware of his surroundings. He knew the speeder had landed at home, he recognized the ambient noise. But he was simply too tired to rise. Perhaps he would be allowed to sleep here tonight? Yes, that would be best.

But then he was being lifted into the air by someone. A man. Someone he knew. He wrapped his small arms around the man’s neck. his head resting on his shoulder, the scratchy wool of his cloak rubbing against his cheek.

He felt himself being placed on his bed. He was relieved of his boots, before having his blanket pulled over him.

“Good night Obi-Wan,” the man’s voice muttered.

“Good night, papa,” he mumbled, turning over in his sleep.

The man hesitated by the door of Obi Wan’s room, then slipped out quickly and shut the door.

Obi Wan’s eyes flew open.  _ What _ had he just called Master Qui-Gon?

It was a good thing he was so tired, otherwise mortification might have kept him awake all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, sometimes six-year-olds are mature Padawan's, and then sometimes six-year-olds are gonna be six-year-olds


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Papa_. For the rest of the galaxy, they were merely words, a way of notating one’s position in a household and family structure, but for the Jedi, those innocent syllables struck at the very core of what was forbidden.

It took alot to surprise Qui-Gon, but the sleepy mumblings of his padawan nearly had him tripping over himself and falling face-first on the carpet in their quarters.

_Papa_. For the rest of the galaxy, they were merely words, a way of notating one’s position in a household and family structure, but for the Jedi, those innocent syllables struck at the very core of what was forbidden. 

Qui-Gon wasn’t upset with Obi-Wan, more with himself than anything. He had forgotten that Obi-Wan had memories of a previous life, of a home where he was loved and cared for unconditionally, and it was only natural that he would want some semblance of familiarity within the rigid confines of the Order. What Qui-Gon had done, taking Obi-Wan around the galaxy, understanding and working with the boy on his anxieties and teaching him, while not frowned upon, was definitely more casual in terms of how master and apprentice relationships generally worked. Qui-Gon himself remembered Master Dooku’s own clinical distance, but thankfully Rael Aveross had been there to guide and be a sounding board for Qui-Gon when it felt like he was truly adrift and alone in the constant contradictions that were his master’s emotions.

Obi-Wan was special, and not just because of his age. There was something about the boy that drew the Force to him as naturally as breathing, he just couldn’t see it yet, bogged down by the insecurities of youth and his lack of training, and Qui-Gon had hoped to coax it out of him, much like a gelagrub emerging from its burrow once it had reached maturity. His mind a whirl and tangle of contradicting thoughts and emotion, far too late in the night for him to speak to anyone now, Qui-Gon did what helped him focus best. 

Settling onto the floor of his quarters, Qui-Gon allowed his shoulders to drop, slowly easing the breath in and out through his nose, out his mouth. His hair was unbound and gently brushed his face, a small caress of the Force as he opened himself up. There was the quiet dreamscape of his padawan, undisturbed by nightmares for the time being, the various tendrils of dreams as other Jedi throughout the Temple slept, the active minds of those of the Order that were nocturnal, and the city beyond. Qui-Gon felt himself an ant, so insignificant and swallowed by the buzzing of life he felt swirling around him, that he imagined he could be swept away in the current of light and life and never find his way back. It was beautiful, glorious, and utterly terrifying all in one, a perfect balance of the Force, and yet...something stirred, something dark and Qui-Gon itched to explore it further, but the soft hitching of Obi-Wan’s breath in the room beyond brought him back.

_My padawan is young, he needs someone to care for him but how do I balance my duties as a master with his fear of rejection and desire to be accepted for who he is?_

The Force was silent and it wasn’t as if Qui-Gon was expecting an answer, but something would have been nice and opened his eyes to be summarily blinded by the lights of one of the Order’s few ships as it passed his quarter's window.

_Somebody must have found a youngling._

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Many Jedi happened upon Force-sensitive children during their travels and, with the parent’s permission, were brought to the Temple to train. It had happened with Qui-Gon (though he had no memory of it), and to Obi-Wan as well. Sometimes there was an entire cadre of Jedi to greet the newest little one, other times, it was in the dead of night that they came, with no one but their finder and insomniatic Jedi Masters with more questions than answers present. 

While Coruscant was not a cool planet by any means, a small breath of air ghosted through Qui-Gon’s still-unbound hair as he stepped out onto the platform, robe pulled tightly around his broad frame. The only lights came from the sterile white circle that indicated the landing pad itself, and the multicolored streaks of the city beyond. As the ship settled and Qui-Gon watched, a hooded figure stepped down from the ramp, arms seemingly cradled around themselves, but Qui-Gon sensed a second spark of life held close to the Jedi’s chest. Stepping forward, he bowed and said softly, “Good evening Master Koon.”

The Kel Dor looked up from the bundle in his arms and inclined his head, his low voice even quieter than usual, “Good evening Master Jinn. A little late to be wandering the Temple is it not?” 

“I could say the same for you master...a last-minute jaunt through the galaxy and you bring back yet another youngling? How do you do it?” Kel Dor’s were traditionally more Force-sensitive than many species in the galaxy, their history and traditions within the Force dating long before the Jedi Order, and Master Plo in particular seemed to have a knack for encountering many potential Jedi during his travels. The Jedi Master also had an inherent kindness and gentleness to him, despite the fearsome appearance of his respirator, and Qui-Gon felt the ripples of calm exuding from the alien as they strode back toward the Temple together. Whether it was for the sleeping child in his arms or Qui-Gon himself, he could not discern.

As they stepped through the towering arches of the doorway, Plo Koon dropped his hood and Qui-Gon sensed the faintest glimmer of amusement as well as a protective gentleness directed toward the child in his arms, and Qui-Gon looked down to see a small Twi’lek. Its eyes were closed and Qui-Gon sensed their untroubled and abstract dreams as it sucked contentedly on the end of its purple-patterned lekku. 

“Such a small thing,” Qui-Gon murmured, reaching out to gently stroke the youngling’s cheek. He felt a certain sense of melancholy as well as a protectiveness washing over him as he looked at the child and Master Koon’s head tilted toward him slightly. 

Seeming to forget that the Kel Dor was next to him, Qui-Gon continued. “I don’t understand…we are asked to take these young ones under our wing and into our care...but not. We are to keep them at arm’s length, to teach them what they need to survive and become the best Jedi they can be for the Order and galaxy, but not become attached to them. It seems a contradiction, a cruelty at worst, to teach children that their feelings and emotions are not what they seem and to create a relationship with them that is born of detachment and distance, easily severed at a moment’s notice.”

Qui-Gon inhaled deeply, coming back to himself. “My apologies Master Koon.”

“None needed,” the other Jedi said somberly. They walked in silence for a few more steps, until Plo Koon said quietly, “Is it Obi-Wan?”

Qui-Gon huffed a laugh. “I don’t think you need to be a Jedi to figure that one out master. Yes, it is about Obi-Wan…” he then proceeded to tell Plo Koon about the events since Obi-Wan had returned from Ilum, including the final moments before he had stepped out onto the landing platform. 

“I see…” Again the Kel Dor was silent and Qui-Gon waited patiently; he knew that Plo Koon was a Jedi of few words, preferring to use his connection to the Force to read people and situations, and only speak when he had something to impart onto the situation at hand. It was what made him such a good member of the Council and why more than anyone, Qui-Gon felt he could unburden himself to the older Jedi.

When the Jedi Master next spoke, it held the gravity of thoughts long-suppressed and meditated on, and Qui-Gon felt as much as heard the rumblings through the Force as Plo Koon began.

“It has always fascinated me, Master Jinn, the difference between attachment and compassion. We are taught from a very early age to control our emotions, to do nothing out of fear or anger or selfishness. But how do we get from this,” the respirator tilted toward the sleeping child, “to where we are now? Emotion and a desire to belong is part of every species’ DNA, as intrinsically linked to our beings as breathing, yet we teach ourselves and each other how to sever that connection. I have observed many younglings and even Jedi Master’s, struggle with this, unable to reconcile the needs of the mind and heart as well as balancing what the Code calls us to be. Being on the Jedi Council has allowed me to see the imperfections in this, and have spoken at length with the other members, but in the end Master Jinn, it is following the will of the Force that will always be my compass, not rules written down by those too long-dead to enforce them. You must do what you feel is best for young Kenobi, just as I will do what is best for this little one.” 

Plo Koon nodded down to the little one in question and Qui-Gon sensed a small rush of anger, quickly followed by clear and pure compassion.

“I watched as this young one was ripped from their mother’s arms at a slave auction on Nal Hutta. The mother was quickly sold, crying out for her child as she was dragged away. Jedi are told not to involve themselves in the affairs of other worlds unless called upon by the Senate, but the Force pushed me beyond the dogma of rules and order and I bought the child. Here, they will have a life that would not have been possible had the Force not found us together. Who can say this child was not meant to be found and turn them away? The day we stop listening to the Force over dogma, rules, and procedure Master Jinn, is the day the Jedi will have truly lost their way.”

They stopped at the entrance to the creche, Qui-Gon relieved a faint sense of deja vu, as Master Vonnuvi stepped out of the shadows, pupils glowing faintly in the darkness.

“Another one Master Koon? Stars, you are certainly keeping us busy,” she reprimanded with a gentle chuckle, long arms reaching out to gently slide the Twi’lek from the Jedi Master’s arms. The purple face scrunched once, as if the movement had disturbed the peaceful stream of its dreams, but then quickly settled, nestling once more into another set of arms. 

Plo Koon bowed to the Ithorian and said softly, “Good luck little one. And good luck to you as well Master Jinn.” With that, the Kel Dor strode away into the slowly-lightning halls of the Temple, leaving Qui-Gon Jinn alone and knowing what he had to do.

***

By the time Obi-Wan had awakened and stumbled out of his room, rubbing his eyes and hair sticking out at odd angles, Qui-Gon’s stomach had felt as if he had just clambered off of a shuttle after one of Rael’s more...creative escapes during their time together. Despite the roiling of his body, Qui-Gon’s mind was clear and he smiled at his padawan’s sleepy gaze.

“Good morning Obi-Wan.”

“Good morning-” he stopped, blue eyes opening wide as he remembered his mumblings from the night prior, but then just as quickly composed himself, rearranging his features into one of feigned interest toward the steaming cup in his master’s hands.

Qui-Gon pretended not to notice, instead turning and pouring the tea like he always did for his young pupil as Obi-Wan clambered up into his customary chair across from him. To an outsider, it would look like an ordinary start to the day between master and apprentice, but Qui-Gon felt the invisible thread taught between the two of them and fervently hoped that the next few minutes wouldn’t snap it.

“Obi-Wan...about yesterday.”

He held up a hand before Obi-Wan could speak and the boy snapped his mouth shut, biting back any apology that Qui-Gon knew sat on the boy’s lips as easily as breathing.

“You must know that I am not angry with you. It was merely a word and, though words have power, it was spoken with no ill-intent behind it. As your master, I must warn you to never speak them outloud again. As a mentor…” Here he paused, allowing the Force to infuse his words and speak through him as opposed to Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master. It felt purposeful, as clear as a bell, and the light that flooded in through his veins felt something out of a dream, beyond this world and from another.

“...as a mentor, what you said reflects nothing more than the deepest desire of your heart, a true longing for connection and belonging in a galaxy that far too often looks down on sentimentality.” Here he allowed himself a small smile, “Including the Jedi themselves. With me, you are free to feel as you wish Obi-Wan, whatever brings you clarity and gives you comfort and I will never shame or dissuade you from your course.”

“But...but the Code says attachments are forbidden! That family is forbidden.” Obi-Wan seemed insistent on being punished for the slip of his tongue and Qui-Gon sighed internally, although he allowed the war of emotions to play across his padawan’s face. Disbelief, embarrassment, more disbelief, finally settling on muted surprise as the silence from his master continued. 

Stirring his tea, Qui-Gon said slowly, “Yes...attachments are forbidden. But consider this Obi-Wan: what is compassion but not attachment to another’s life and well-being? As Jedi, we are called to compassion, to see others through their eyes and what is more intimate than understanding between two people? It is when we let it dictate our actions, pulling us from the larger will of the Force and blinding us wholly to consequences, that it becomes dangerous, an obsession...a path into darkness. We all experience these feelings Obi-Wan, no matter our age or experience, and there is nothing shameful in them, nothing that needs hidden. It becomes a matter of recognizing and acknowledging those feelings while not allowing them to consume us. It is no easy task, but this is why I am here Obi-Wan: to pass on what I have learned and for you to take it and make it into your own. Every master’s dream is to see his pupil surpass him and I feel deep within my bones Obi-Wan, that you will surpass and exceed beyond expectations.”

Before he could stop himself, Qui-Gon placed a hand on top of Obi-Wan’s that was resting on the table. He could feel the trembling in the small boy’s hands as he held back all the emotion Qui-Gon could feel roiling under the facade of calm. Obi-Wan cared too much and it scared the young padawan. The boy who loved to follow the rules, who was so intent on pleasing his master because he wanted _Qui-Gon_ to be happy, regardless of his own feelings, hit the Jedi Master squarely in the gut and he nearly crushed the boy’s hand on accident, as if physical touch could convey just how much that meant to him and how much we wished Obi-Wan could know.

Qui-Gon Jinn had been alone for a long time. Yes, he had the Order, yes he had companions, but to have another individual care solely about what happened to _him_ was a new sensation and one that threatened to override any common sense the older Jedi had left. 

_This boy is going to be the death of me._

A small, insistent beeping next to the kettle broke Qui-Gon’s focus on his young charge. Pulling his hand back, Qui-Gon keyed the comlink as Master Windu’s voice echoed through the small space.

“We have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plo Koon and Qui-Gon Jinn would have been Chaotic Clone Dads together during the war and you cannot change my mind about this.


End file.
